Dark Desires: Dark Erotic Tales

by M Jet

  Morreen watches the girl proceed to the front of the stage and hold the drink up to Matteo. Matteo accepts the drink and gives the girl a glorious smile. Morreen watches him bend down and speak into the girl's ear, and then the girl says something back into his ear. Matteo dedicates the next song to his special new friend, Toni Styles.

  ***

  By the band's first break, Morreen's had a few drinks herself. Her poison is Jose. She's watched her husband sing, jump off stage and dance with several women, but mostly with Toni Styles who hasn't left the dance floor since she delivered his drink. Numerous regular customers have questioned Morreen about the girl who nobody's ever seen before. Others make off handed comments in front of Morreen about Matteo's performance shenanigans and how Morreen is a hell of a wife to put up with it. Morreen licks salt off her hand, shoots another drink and then sucks the lemon wedge. Then she stalks off into the kitchen where she's just seen Matteo go.

  Matteo is counting money on the deep freezer. He periodically hits the registers and takes money out throughout the night and he's counting the take up until this point. "Matteo," Morreen says quietly, her voice not at all matching the level of venom within her.

  Matteo glances over his shoulder at her. He says nothing, just continues counting the bills.

  "People are talking about the way you're acting tonight."

  Matteo sighs and slams the money down. "You made me lose count."

  "It's embarrassing Matteo, please…"

  Matteo turns and glares at her with sharp dark eyes. She knows he's had quite a few drinks by now too. She knows not to start with him. But she can't help herself.

  "Morreen, we own this bar. It's our job to be nice to the customers. We are nice, they spend money, and we get rich. That's the equation. You might try it sometime." Matteo says maliciously.

  Morreen's eyes glint dangerously. "Oh, really? You want me to be nice to the customers the same way you are?" Her comment is accusing, but her tone is still quiet. She knows not to push his limits. He doesn't respond well to a disrespectful tone.

  "Are you accusing me of something, Morreen?"

  "I don't have to accuse you; everybody else does it for me."

  Matteo leans into her face. Even in this angry moment, the scent of him intoxicates her. Her head swims with raw anger and burning lust. "YOU oughtta know better. You should know I love you, fuck what anyone else says. If you can't believe in me, then fuck you too," Matteo growls. He shoves the wads of money into his pockets and bolts from the room.

  ***

  By the time one a.m. rolls around everybody is drunk. The crowd is hammered. Morreen is hammered and other bartenders have taken over, she's too drunk to work. Matteo's hammered and so is the whole band. The music is louder. The crowd is dancing at a feverish pace. Toni Styles is right in front of the stage and Matteo plays to her. He sings right to her, and stares down at her with a small feral smile. Morreen is hunkered in a dark booth watching the scene unfold, searing in anger. This is the story of every weekend of their life. The Toni's of the world are drawn to Morreen's husband and he loves every minute of it. Though he professes his undying love for Morreen, the general public and the low down chatter around the place suggests differently. This is what twenty years of marriage has boiled down to for Morreen Sorrention.

  Matteo jumps down off the stage strolling to the second bar, conveniently located behind the dance floor. He never misses a beat in the song; just keeps singing as he goes to the bar to get another drink. Toni Styles sidles along behind him. As Matteo reaches a break in the song, Toni stands on her tip toes, puts her arms around Matteo and whispers in his ear. Matteo laughs at whatever it is the girl says to him, but his eyes pierce Morreen's across the room. Then, Toni kisses Matteo's cheek.

  Matteo grins wickedly at Morreen.

  Morreen shoots out of her seat, swaying dangerously as soon as she's on her feet. Her head rolls and the blood rushing behind her ears is deafening. She staggers across the bar to Toni and Matteo. Without hesitation, Morreen throws her drink on Toni, soiling her black top, only causing it to hug her curves more revealingly.

  Toni gasps leaps backwards, and looks down at herself then back up at Morreen.

  "I'm going to the pisser," Morreen seethes. "When I come back, if you're still here, I'm going to beat your ass all over this bar."

  ***

  When Morreen returns, the girl is gone. The band is on break again, and Matteo harshly grabs Morreen's arm and hauls her back into the kitchen.

  "You've had too much to drink, Morreen. Call a cab, and go home. I'll be home after close."

  Morreen's eyes fill with tears. "Oh come on, Matteo. If I had too much to drink I'd have done a lot worse to that tramp."

  Matteo shut his eyes and sighed. There wouldn't be any arguing with him. Sniveling, Morreen walks out of the bar into the bitter cold night and waits, shivering, for the cab to fetch her.

  ***

  Just before the last set gets ready to start, Matteo once again sneaks back to the kitchen. He pulls a phone number out of his jeans pocket that had been discreetly placed there.

  "Hey," he purrs into the phone. "It's Matteo. She went home, you wanna come back in?"

  Just as last call has been announced, the band has finished, and Matteo is beginning clean up and get out, Toni Styles sashays back in the front door. Matteo grins at her ravenously.

  ***

  Matteo turns the bar's lock after escorting the last patron out. When he turns back toward the barroom, Toni is there right behind him. She shoves him back into the door and presses her lips hard against his. High on the whiskey and titillated by the music still quietly playing from the juke box, her scent, and her soft skin, he grabs her arms roughly and kisses her viciously. She groans and gasps for air against his lips. He moves his hands over her full breasts, squeezing them and then frantically moving his hands down to feel the heat between her legs, apparent even through the thin cloth of her pants.

  "Fuck me on the stage," Toni begs breathily.

  With a low growl, Matteo hoists her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. They continue to take greedy kisses as Matteo carries her all the way through the giant barroom to the darkened stage in the rear. He perches her on the edge of the stage. For a brief second, Matteo steps back to admire Toni Styles, sitting there with her back slightly arched and her chest heaving with her ragged breaths. The flicker of light from flashing neon up in the front window casts an eerie purple glow on her shining blonde hair. The thought that these pretty young things still want him makes his cock throb with that perfect brand of sexual pain. He lunges.

  He tears at her top and exposes her perfect tits. Her position on the stage elevates her to the ideal level for him to take her taunt nipple into his mouth. He manipulates it with hard licks and nips. She trembles and whimpers. He continues to fuck her tits with his mouth while frantically unbuttoning her pants and kneading the soft curves of her hips with voracious fingers. She wiggles slightly to help him free her of her pants and G-string in one skilled motion. Matteo places her hands between her knees and jerks them apart, exposing the center of her desire. He glares darkly into her eyes and gives her a wicked smile. Then he kneels before her so that he may plunge his tongue inside her. Toni cries out as she arches her back and leans back on her hands while Matteo probes her g spot with a knowing tongue while rubbing firm circles around her clit. Her entire pelvic region tingles with a million burning pin pricks of sensation and she is dizzy. She fears she may orgasm to an embarrassing extent in this man's face. But, just as she begins tossing her hair from side to side, urging herself not to come yet, he shoots into a standing position and rapidly, he unbuttons his fly to reveal the long hard cock she'd been imagining. Without even dropping his jeans, he jerks her hips forward and slips her easily onto himself.

  His cowboy boots click on the barroom floor as he rocks back and forth hammering into her.

  ***

  Morreen wakes at ten a.m. Matteo is still asleep be
side her. She'd been asleep when he came home, but the turn of the key in the lock woke her long enough to note that it wasn't until five a.m. She watches her husband sleep wondering why it took him three hours to return home from a work place that was only five minutes from their house. She considers waking him to ask him. But she knows that he will lie and so, what would be the point.

  Morreen wanders dejectedly to the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee and a double dose of Eccedrin. She wishes there were a child between them to tend to. A reason to cling to this marriage. A small person to fill her empty life. A thing to fill her mornings with laughter and pancakes. She wishes she could prevent the tears that are slipping down her freckled cheeks. She wishes she could understand what exactly it is that makes her continue to be tied to this man. She doesn't want him anymore.

  But the key is, she doesn't think anybody else ought to want him either. Not after all that he's put her through. That she didn't deserve. A new course of action has been turning in her mind for some time. Today she decides to do it.

  ***

  He wakes late in the day, rises and quietly showers and readies himself to return to the bar for another busy night. Not a word is spoken between them which is customary after one of his all-nighters. They don't fight, but they certainly do not communicate either.

  Finally as he is ready to leave he speaks to her. "What are you doing? Why aren't you ready?" he asks.

  "I don't want to do it tonight, Matteo," she says defeated.

  He nods. "OK," he says. Morreen smarts at the fact that he doesn't care at all. "Will you please take the deposit to the bank though? The money's in the top dresser drawer."

  Morreen nods mournfully, begging him with her eyes to understand her, see inside her. "Sure," she whispers meekly. He smiles and saunters off down the hallway. She hears the front door open and close and the tears begin again.

  ***

  Tonight is not anywhere near as eventful as last night for Matteo. He keeps hoping to catch a glimpse of Toni Styles' hot ass. He wouldn't say no to a replay of last night. But, she's not there. Little slut, Matteo thinks hatefully, probably out looking for her next throw somewhere else tonight. The slight sting of not seeing her doesn't slow him down much. He still makes it through the evening uneventfully and has a nice time.

  Still feeling tired and hung over from the night before, Matteo hurries through closing time and does his best to rush the crowd and the help out at the end. After everyone is gone, he counts the take, tucks it safely into his inside coat pocket and lets himself out into the blustery night. He strides around the side of the building, into the darkness and reaches for the handle on his car door.

  A crushing blow to the back of his head sends him spiraling into nothingness.

  ***

  He wakes in blinding pain. His head thunders and he is confused. He doesn't know how much time has gone by. His eyes are open, but he cannot see. But there is a dank smell of mildew and piss. After a couple seconds gathering his wits he realizes he's blindfolded. He lifts his arms which he realizes are bound with what feels like cold metal.

  Hand cuffs.

  He pulls off the blindfold and finds himself lying on a dirty, cold concrete floor. Slowly, he coaxes himself into a seated position. He's in a small dingy concrete room without windows. Seems like a basement. It is mostly dark save one naked bulb hanging by a wire from the low ceiling.

  Across from him, Morreen is seated, leaning against a wall, her arms resting on her raised knees. She's watching him, and her hand cuffed hands dangle lifelessly from their resting place on her knees.

  Matteo begins hyperventilating as he scrambles through the dirt and grime to his wife. Her eyes are swollen from recent crying. Streaks of dirt mar her pristine complexion. Her fiery red ringlets drift messily about her face.

  "Baby! Are you OK?" Matteo asks her in a panic. He raises his bound hands to touch her face, to examine her.

  Morreen's eyes are empty. She nods lifelessly. "I'm fine," she murmurs.

  Matteo is fighting tears. "What the fuck is going on? Where are we?" he questions hysterically.

  She shakes her head. "I don't know," she whispers hopelessly.

  He moves back, resting on his haunches, still searching her face and body with his eyes for any sign of injury. "What do you mean you don't know? You don't know how we got here? You've not seen anybody?"

  "Matteo, I was walking up to the depository at the bank to drop the money, and I got cracked in the head. That's all I know. When I woke up, I was here, and you were sprawled out across the room. That had to have been several hours ago. I've just been watching you sleep."

  "At the bank!" Matteo choked. "Did they get the money?"

  Morreen glared at him. "Of course they got the money, Matteo."

  "Fuck," Matteo spat.

  She gives him a look of disgust and shakes her head. "I'd say that's the least of our troubles at this point."

  Matteo reaches into the coat he is still wearing and feels for the money that had been there. His head falls and he groans. "Shit, mine's gone too." After a pause and a ponder he says, "So, if they got all our money, then why are we here?"

  Morreen stares at Matteo with a malevolent hatred that somehow seems lost on him. "Well, if I had to guess, I'd say that somebody will be asking us for more money. And then probably killing us."

  Matteo massages his temples. At least the sickening head ache is beginning to ease up, but not enough to begin formulating any sort of plan just yet. He is however coherent enough now to notice his wife's icy demeanor and he crawls back across the room and takes a seat against the wall opposite her. They sit there for a while without speaking, both carefully avoiding looking at each other.

  "I can't believe this," Morreen finally mutters.

  "Can't believe what?" Matteo asks.

  "I can't believe today of ALL DAYS that we've been kidnapped. This is fucking hilarious, and SO just my luck."

  Matteo frowns at her. "Hilarious? Not exactly, Morreen. This isn't funny at all," he barks, his blood pressure escalating. "Why would you even say that?"

  Morreen's eyes darted to meet his. "Because, today was the day I finally decided to divorce you. And now, I won't get to because we're going to die."

  The breath rushes out of Matteo as though he's been punched. For a long moment, he is speechless. Then he slowly crawls back across the room to sit next to his wife. "Morreen? You can't mean it," Matteo says.

  She looks away from him, the hurt on his face too painful for her to face. She nods. "Yes, I mean it Matteo. I think you not coming home again until five in the morning was it for me this time."

  His mouth drops open. "But, Morreen," he says indignantly. "You know how it goes at the bar! There was a big fight at closing time. I was there late with the cops straightening things out. That's all! Baby! Please!" He reaches up to caress her face but she jerks away from him.

  "Oh please, Matteo. Twenty years. Twenty years this has gone on. I just don't believe you anymore, OK, so cut the bullshit alright?" She turns her head to meet his eyes again; their faces are nose to nose. "We're more than likely going to die here together," she imparts softy. "What's the point of lying?"

  Matteo hangs his head. She's right. She's absolutely fucking right. He can't even remember all the countless times he's cheated on her. Every single opportunity he had, he took it. Without hesitation. And Morreen's a great wife. She's certainly never cheated on him. She's gorgeous. Smart. Funny. There wasn't ever even any reason for it.

  He just likes to fuck.

  "You're right, Morreen," he breathes.

  "What?"

  He looks into her sparkling green eyes. "You're right, Morreen. You should divorce me. I don't deserve you. I've been a no good, lying, cheating bastard. You should cut my balls off and feed them to birds in the park."

  Morreen's eyes glisten with tears. "Oh, Matteo, that's all I have EVER wanted to hear from you…"

  "Do you think you could ever forgive me, Morreen?" he asks
.

  Morreen stares at him endlessly. "I know that I love you very much, Matteo. Forever, I will love you…"

  Despite the hand cuffs, Matteo reaches up and take her face in his hands and he kisses her gently. Her lips soften beneath his warm breath and he works his tongue inside her mouth, massaging and exploring. She sighs against his loving, owning kiss. He moves to position himself between her legs and kiss her more deeply, pulling her into his strong arms and wrapping them protectively around her. Even as he kisses her, her tears begin to fall.

  "Oh baby, please," he says kissing away her tears. "Please don't cry. If we make it through this, whatever this is, I swear to you Morreen. I will make this up to you… If you'll let me."

  Morreen whimpers and kisses him again, that old passion between them igniting. "Make it up to me now," she says in a low sultry voice that is unlike her.

  Matteo pauses and regards his wife, feeling strange for smiling considering the situation they're in. She doesn't have to tell him twice.

  Matteo leaps up to his feet, forgetting all about the residual headache still roosting in the base of his skull. He reaches down to pull Morreen up as well, spinning her to face the wall. With his handcuffed hands, he pulls her handcuffed hands up over her head and puts them against the wall. She sighs wistfully.

  Fear only serves to sweeten his sexual anticipation. He feels creative and the restraints become an excitement rather than a hindrance. He slides the long skirt she's wearing down her legs slowly, dropping down to his knees as the skirt makes its descent. He deftly touches one of her thighs between her legs and pushes it so that she spreads her legs for him. She writhes against the dirty wall, as though anticipating something she's waited a long time for. In this moment, considering her luscious, perfectly proportioned curves in the gloomy darkness, he wonders why he ever had eyes for any woman other than this one.

  Matteo feels his own uncontrollable desire building as he gently touches his wife between her legs. She moves headily against his hands but he moves his hands to cup her ass, hold her still. She keeps still but begins to tremble. He moves his hands again between her legs, gently caressing the lips of her hot desire and exalting at the wetness he feels there. He moves one finger inside her folds to find the small hard bud that connects him to her every orgasm. He softly swirls his finger on it and she writhes again with an impatient desirous moan.