The Story of Michael

by Damien Dsoul

  “But that’s not going to bring about anything,” I complained.

  He shrugged at me. “Hey kid, what would you want me to tell you? It’s a tough world, and like what the State Department fellow told you, the wheels of bureaucracy grind pretty slow. Sorry.”

  The dark cloud I was feeling over me was now pouring rain down my head. I felt devastated hearing that. And to think I’d come all this way for a possible means of getting this done. Suddenly the food I was eating had no taste in my mouth anymore. I gathered all the stuff I’d laid on his table and threw them into my bag. I picked up the snapshot of Catherine and looked at him.

  “What you’re saying is I should return home and forget about all of this, is that what you’re saying? I should just sit back and let my girlfriend and her parents rot in whatever hell hole they’re in right now. Who knows if they’re being tortured right now and Catherine’s probably being raped by who knows whom. You want me to just fold my hands and make like none of it bothers me at all?” I was raising my voice and didn’t actually know it. I threw the photo inside my bag as well and zipped it up and got up, feeling pretty mad and frustrated about everything I’d been hearing. “Well, I’m not going to fold my hands and forget about all of this. I’m going to rescue my girlfriend no matter how I try. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

  I was so angry I couldn’t see straight as I barked my chin against the foot of the chair while making for the door.

  “Michael, hold it,” he called out to me and I turned to look at him, still excited and gloomy from the adrenaline pumping inside me. “Come back let’s talk some more. No need you leaving here in that state.”

  I returned to my chair; I apologized for losing my temper and he calmed me down and said he’d expected that. He left where he stood and returned to his chair.

  “It’s not often I meet someone like yourself who’d talk about wanting to do whatever they can about getting their women back.”

  “What can I say: I love her. She’s an angel, and she means a lot to me.”

  “I notice that. So then what you got in mind of what you’d want to do? You want to head down there to Nigeria and see if you can figure this out on your own? You going to be a one-man army to try and rescue your girl and her folks from whoever’s holding her hostage?”

  “Yeah,” I blurted without even thinking about it. “Why not? If the big boys in the State Department can’t do anything, well then maybe I can.”

  He laughed. “That’s damn noble of you, kid. I admire your courage, but it’s stupid. This isn’t some bunch of street punks you’re going after. What you think you’re going to do when you get there? You’re going to bust heads and kick asses and blow up buildings like you’re Rambo till whomever’s got your girl steps out and hands her over to you? And even when they do, you think they’re going to give you a free ‘get away’ ticket out the country?”

  That had me stumped a bit. “Well ... I haven’t really thought it over yet, but that’s kind of what I’d like to do. I don’t know anything about blowing up buildings, but I’d sure like to travel down there and see what I can find. I know it sounds kind of hard and foolish.”

  “You’ll never know until you try,” he said. He leaned forward on his desk and looked at me earnestly. “All kidding aside, Michael. How serious are you thinking of going with this? I mean forget about all this talk we’re having right now, what I want to know is how really fucking serious do you want to go finding this lost girl of yours?”

  It was a serious question, and prior to that moment I hadn’t really thought of it. I felt like from the moment those State Department guys paid me a visit and clued me into Catherine missing that I was on some sort of mission and was only now about to accept it.

  “Yes sir, I am fucking serious,” I said with such boldness.

  The detective didn’t speak for a second or two. He was kind of sizing me up, wanting to know just how serious I was. Then he sat back, laughing, slapped his palm repeatedly on his desk blotter.

  “You’ve got balls, Michael. I’m not trying to discourage you or anything. Your girl’s pretty. God knows if I’m in your shoes, I too would want to move mountains to get my woman back. But you need to be aware of what you’re trying to get involved in. This ain’t some bad guys from around the corner you want to tackle. You’re going to be moving into hostile territory. You’re going to be in a world that no one would want to seem welcoming to you. Most importantly, you’re going to be alone. Very, very alone. You think you can handle that?”

  I told him I would.

  “You got a passport?”

  I told him I have one.

  “You’re going to need a visa to get there. Okay then. Maybe we should postpone things for tomorrow. Where will you be putting up at?”

  “Right now, I don’t have anywhere in mind - I just got off the bus. Was thinking maybe motel or something.”

  “Nah, save your money. You’re going to need it where you’ll be going, if really you decide on this. Come by my place, we can talk more afterwards.”

  He got up and called out to his secretary and told her it about time for her to start closing up. He began putting some files away inside his cabinet drawers and pulled down his curtains. We left the office with his secretary joining us. He went to where he’d parked his car - a classic Coupe DeVille with all the metal glitter, exactly the same type of car his writer friend wrote in his novel; that shattered any further argument I might have about him not being real and he saw the look in my eyes and laughed at me. I got into the back seat while he shared the front with his secretary. I got the feeling there was more than a working relationship going on the way she fawned over him as he drove. When saw her place her hand over his crotch one time we got to a red light. He too squeezed her thigh and they were both laughing and making out like I wasn’t in the car with them.

  He got to his place and he parked his car across the street and then went over and he let us both inside. He told me to use his shower if I felt like it. I took my bag into his bedroom while Sarah his secretary went into the kitchen, singing to herself while she did. She had a great body even with her clothes on. I went into the bathroom and didn’t come out for another ten minutes while I was busy having a shower. I came out of the room feeling refreshed and went and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Thaddeus Black was in the living room with his shirt loose and his shoes off and was watching a program on the TV when I came and joined him. Sarah appeared with two bottles of beer and told us dinner would be ready in a short while. He slapped her butt as she scuttled back where she’d come from. I tried not to follow her movement but my eyes couldn’t help it; the detective too noticed my looking and he smiled at me.

  “She’s a fiery-looking thing, isn’t she?” he asked me as if he expected me to know. “Yeah, she takes good care of it. That’s one slut who can take dictation and knows how to stitch a button on a shirt without spilling a glass of wine in her hand. Very hardworking.”

  I didn’t know if he was being metaphorical or otherwise with what he just said. I decided not to pursue it. There was an NBA game on the TV and we both watched it while we drank our beer. Neither of us said anything for a while, then suddenly he broke the silence and asked me a question that took me by surprise.

  “When was the last time you got laid, Michael?”

  I choked on my drink and coughed. “Wh ... why do you ask me that?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing really. Just having a man-to-man conversation with you, if it’s alright, I mean. Nothing to get upset about.”

  “Yeah, sure ... well, it’s ... been a while for me.”

  “Your girl halfway across the world, I can understand that.” He drank his beer. “But here’s a question I know you ain’t thought about yet, but I think you ought to really. Let’s say you do head down to Nigeria and you do find your girl over there ... wh
at if she don’t want to come back to you? Ever thought of that?”

  I looked at him saw he wasn’t joking. It was a strange question and I hadn’t thought about it either.

  “No, I haven’t thought of that,” I said, kind of taken aback by his question. “What makes you think she wouldn’t want to come back? She’s in trouble right now.”

  “You’re a smart kid, Michael. Have you ever heard about something called the Helsinki Syndrome? It’s a phenomenon that happens to kidnapped victims sometimes when they start feeling pity for their captors. It’s happened in in some scenarios before, and I’m not ashamed to say it, I once got involved in a case that turned out that way. Some rich dude’s wife fell in with the wrong crowd and hit her hubby for a large piece of guineas - that’s money, I mean - and the dude asked me to help get her back. I did get her back unharmed, of course. But about a week later I got a call from her man again saying his wife took off the night before in her car and some money from their joint account. She left her wedding ring on the dresser next to the bed with a note that simply said: ‘I want a divorce’. Nothing I can do about it since this time she left on her own free will. His lawyer drew up the papers and gave her the divorce alright, but that was the last time he heard from his ex-wife. He’s still clueless as to where she is now, most likely gone back to the same crowd from whom I rescued her from. Not that I’m trying to dissuade you or anything, just want you to think about it when you’ve got time and ask yourself if it’s all really worth it.”

  He went back to watching the game and drinking his beer. I sat there watching the game too but my mind wouldn’t stop mulling over what he’d just said to me.

  Some minutes later Sarah returned from the kitchen and announced that dinner was ready.

  ***

  Something woke me up late in the night. There was a bumping type sound. I reached my hand out in the dark and fell down something as I then found the switch of the bedside lamp and flicked it on. I was in Thaddeus Black’s bedroom -he had taken out a folding bed and said he would crash in the living room. I couldn’t tell what time it was as it was dark outside and the bumping noise was still happening.

  I came off the bed and went to the door. The noise was coming from outside, and now I could hear someone groaning too. I opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.

  The noise now was unmistakable: that of two people fucking. It was coming from the living room. I inched my head towards the doorway and peeped into the room.

  Thaddeus Black was on seated on his long couch and his Sarah sat on top of him grinding her buttocks down on his thighs and they were both naked. I had my mouth open as I watched. I wanted to turn away but I couldn’t help but watch. I’d never seen a white woman having sex with a black man before. I wasn’t naïve not to know about interracial dating, just that where I live it’s not often you get to see such and here it was happening before my eyes.

  I watched them kiss each other; his hands caressed her buttocks and he slapped her ass cheeks loud. The couch groaned from their weight - the sound of what woke me up - and she groaned into his ear and kept talking wild crazy words to him. She held up her tits to his face and giggled as he sucked on each of them. My God, just standing there watching them was bringing wild thoughts into my head. Down in my shorts I was getting a hard-on. I’d never had sex yet; Catherine and I had sworn a vow of celibacy until when we got married. But I couldn’t help what I was seeing. I had jerked off plenty of times, and whenever I did it always made me feel guilty. A lot of times before I’d go to bed I’d pray about it and ask God to forgive me. I couldn’t help myself then when I was doing it and I couldn’t help myself now either. My hand sneaked into my shorts and I was stroking my erection before I knew it while the detective kept on banging his hot secretary.

  He said something to her and though I couldn’t catch what it was, the crackle of her laughter told it she was into it. Her held her tight and lowered himself to the fold-out bed that was spread by his feet on the living room floor. He came on top of her. She held him down to her chest, her feet high above his back, and I could see his shaft sinking down between her legs and the sound of her moaning climbed higher and higher. I could feel my hand working fast on my dick; I could hear myself gasping and didn’t want to stop. What drove me further crazy was hearing the crazy stuff she was saying as he kept pounding down on her hard.

  “Fuck me, Thad! Awwhhhh God, I want your black cock in me all day ... Ugghhhh ... Ohhh ... fuck me anytime you want!”

  “You’re my bitch secretary, you know!” he grunted at her face.

  “Ohhh yes! I’m your fucking white bitch secretary! Fuck my bitch secretary pussy!”

  He pulled out of her and made her turn over on her arms and knees, sticking her ass back at him. He slapped his cock on her butt playfully. The sound of her voice told me she wasn’t liking it. She reached for his cock under her legs and pushed it into where she wanted it to. He was fucking her harder now. I loved the sound of her butt slamming back at him. She dug her head under and kept groaning, still talking wild crazy stuff. He grabbed at her tits and still kept on fucking her from behind. I too was feeling some heat from what I was doing and as I listened to his secretary’s cries grow higher, so too my hand-stroking went faster and then I came right there on my hand.

  That did it for me. I turned back and went into the room and closed the door behind me. I looked around for a rag but couldn’t find any, I rubbed my cum over my thigh figuring when I take my morning shower I would wash it off. I lay in bed listening to them fucking, wishing that was me doing the same thing to Catherine. I picked up her photograph which I’d left on the cabinet drawer next to the table lamp and took one long good look at her smiling face before dropping it back and turning off the light.

  ***

  Morning came and my phone’s alarm clock sounded off when it struck 6:35a.m. I got up from the bed and did a couple of stretches, did some calisthenics and loved the sound of my bones cracking as I twisted my torso to either side. There came a knock on the door and I told whomever it was to come in. it was Thaddeus Black. He entered with the fold-out bed, smiling at me.

  “Hope we gave you some entertainment last night,” he laughed and looked down at my legs. “All that dry cum you’ve got there on your thigh must have been for something.”

  He went on laughing and I could do nothing except blush.

  TRAVEL

  It was happening. I was onboard a Virgin airline thousands of miles above the earth circling the other of side the world, destination Nigeria. I had an aisle seat, economy-class. The seats were narrow and I made mine lean back so I could stretch my feet as I tried to catch some sleep. A thick-set Nigerian woman in a native attire sat next to me munching on a candy-bar she had brought with her. I’d consumed my lunch and felt satisfied at least for now. Only thing I was looking forward to was when we would get to land.

  It had been four weeks and some days since last time I was with the detective.

  I had returned home to Buffalo the following day after we’d met, though not after I’d researched through the Nigerian embassy’s webpage for means of securing a travel visa. Returning to home to Buffalo, I had filled up the necessary travel form and paid the required visa fee and with my passport in hand I’d returned to New York City a few days later and went to the Nigerian embassy in Manhattan and submitted my form along with my passport. I was told to return in a weeks’ time and I had to bite down not to show my impatience. Bureaucracy everywhere, something the world is never going to do without. Thaddeus Black told me to stay the week with him instead of heading back home so soon, and it was a great idea as my body was sore from the ride; I did call my folks and told them I was safe with a friend. Thaddeus Black was fun to be with and he made for interesting company the likes I probably wouldn’t have had being with someone else. The man never seemed to run short of women, white women especially.
If he wasn’t returning to his place along with his secretary it was with some other pretty woman and I’d stay awake jerking off to the sound of them fucking in the bedroom while I lay on the fold-out bed; most times though I preferred the couch.

  All through much of my time I wouldn’t stop thinking about Catherine. God knows what she might be going through down in Nigeria, whatever horrors she might be living. I did call Clarence again to know if anything new had turned up. Sadly nothing and what made it dire was that they were soon going to close the case and move him to something else. I opened up and levelled with him about what I intended to do; I felt better sharing the detail with him than with Arnoldson. Surprisingly he didn’t try to talk me out of it or come down on me for even thinking of attempting such a crazy stunt. He wished me best of luck, told me to be careful and to keep in touch if by chance I stumbled onto something when I get down there. His card had his email address on it and if I couldn’t call, I could always write to him. I promised to do that.

  Thaddeus Black kept on being a cool host and whatever he could to stop me from being moody about what lay ahead of me. He saw the burden on my face and told me it wasn’t something to get too hung up about - I was going to get the visa, no doubt. Least I could do was cheer up about being alive and enjoy the moment. He took me out to several of his nightlife haunts. He introduced me to a couple of his social friends, regaled me with anecdotes of his life as a private eye, said it wasn’t all smoke and mirrors as his buddy had painted it in his book; there was some danger involved, though not the sort most would understand if they haven’t lived the life. He offered to get me laid but I always declined. The only girl I wanted in my arms was Catherine; none would do but her. I did get a kick though watching him work his way with the women in the bars he took me to and then bringing them home with him and listening to them fuck in the bedroom. Every night ended up just the same way. I’d never met any man who had as much sex as he did.