Wild Knights

by Blaise Kilgallen

  "If you're going to keep on doing that, let me get something," he whispered. He reached back to pull a kerchief from his jeans pocket. "Use this," he said.

  She remembered how his semen had spurted into her when he had forgotten to wear a condom. She wanted to give him pleasure. It was only fair. But she didn't want to get pregnant. She tightened her fingers as her palms curled around his length. A man's penis was a miraculous organ. How did the darn thing get so big and long, so fast? When she'd married Billy, she had been more than naïve. They'd had very little time to perfect their lovemaking. But then, it didn't matter much. Her husband had been killed in a stupid accident after the damn war was already won.

  Evan's jutting cock grew in leaps and bounds. She tickled its underside, stroking him from root to tip. He inhaled a guttural, almost painful, sound. He released her shoulders. She felt him grab the cushion next to his hips and clench.

  "God almighty, don't stop now, lady," he groaned. "Finish it. Rub me harder, faster. Now, please, sugar."

  Her fingers rode up and down his shaft while his hips pumped against her resistance.

  "Get the kerchief ready," he ordered, choking out the command. "I'm ... almost there."

  She dropped the cloth over the tip of his penis, and he shuddered and stiffened. The heat from his release soaked into the cotton fabric onto her hand. Seconds later he slumped against the back of the loveseat. He gripped Carla's small hand with one of his and pried her off of his penis. Then he wiped himself clean with the handkerchief.

  "Shit, Carla," he said, blowing hard as he tried to recapture his normal breathing. "I think my bones are made of mush."

  His huge cock was now flaccid and shriveled, but when she gently tucked it back into his skivvies she saw he was bigger than Billy ever had been.

  She felt him huffing against her cheek.

  "Who sez we're done yet? Just give me a couple of minutes, huh?"

  She lay her head on his shoulder, facing him, her hands circling his waist. She kissed and licked the skin of his neck. "Did I do it right?"

  "God, yes. I felt what you did sizzle all the way down to my toes."

  She hid her face and nuzzled between his shoulder and chin, inhaling the musky odor of sex and male semen.

  He lowered his cheek to her hair, rubbing against her gently, holding her close while they sat in silence.

  Abruptly, he straightened. "I saw a couch over there against the wall. C'mon, let's lie down together. There are things I want to do for you."

  She rose off his lap. He zipped his jeans, leaving the metal button undone, and they moved to the daybed. She slid onto it, moving against the wall, pushing pillows under her head. He stretched out next to her. "This is better than walking all the way upstairs," he said. Then he rolled toward her in the dark and dragged her against him. She melted into him, inhaling deeply.

  Their openmouthed, passionate kisses went on and on.

  "Umm," she purred. "Nice."

  "I love kissing you, Carla," he answered. "I could eat you for breakfast. Or lunch. And supper, too." He laughed after he said it.

  She smiled in the darkness, aware of, but not seeing, a smile breaking across his face. She was wise enough to know where his intentions were headed.

  He stopped first at her breasts. She hugged him to her, and let him suckle. Then she pushed his head lower, between her legs. She was on fire to feel his tongue lapping at her clit again, driving her crazy the way he'd done in Atlantic City.

  He pulled her shorts and panties off in one expert yank. Rolling off the low couch, he knelt on the floor beside it, pulled her over, opened her legs wide, and began to lick her cunt.

  "You're like Chinese food, Carla. When I suck on your pussy, I'm starving for more of you again."

  She writhed under his sensual tongue-lashing. "Oh yesss, Evan. Lick me there, lick harder. More." She was pumping against his lips and tongue.

  Finally, he took one big finger and swiped it roughly along her clit. She bucked off the daybed and convulsed, waves of heat flooding rapidly through her lower body. He covered her mouth with his kiss. "Mmph," was all she could get out, although she wanted to scream at the night sky with the beauty and power of her climax. She slumped into a puddle of limp flesh, breathing hard. She reached for him to come back up on the couch beside her. He rolled next to her and drew her into his comforting arms, holding her tight.

  "Was it good?" He murmured close to her ear.

  "Umm, oh yeah, Evan. Fantastic," was all she had the strength to say. Every nerve in her body felt like whipped cream. She was unable to move, but she inhaled in slow, deep breaths, calming herself. Sex with Evan was more than sex as far as she was concerned. His generous lovemaking pleasured her with powerful satisfaction. But what was Evan feeling, thinking? Did he care for her just a little? Or was this simply something physical? She had no way of knowing, because he'd certainly never put it into words. L-O-V-E certainly never crossed her mind until now. She had planned it as a hot fling. That was all, because they would never see one another again.

  She kissed the hollow in front of his neck, feeling the silver cross she'd seen him wear. The cool metal touched her lips. She wondered who gave it to him. But it was none of her business, and she didn't ask.

  It seemed like five minutes later when in truth it was more like 20 when he sat up, sliding his long legs over the side of the daybed. Dimly, she saw him rake his fingers through his tousled curls. "Are you leaving now, Evan?"

  He turned toward where she lay in the semi-dark.

  "Yeah, I guess it's time."

  She leaned up, resting on one elbow. "Thank you. For everything. The Chinese food ... and ... everything." She hesitated, but had to ask, "Will I see you this week?"

  Oh God! It sounds as if I'm begging him.

  "I have to go to Chicago, Carla. Probably Tuesday. I need someone to cover for me at work." He reached toward her, fumbling for her hand.

  "Your uncle again?"

  "Yes."

  That was all the answer he gave her.

  He stood up and helped her up from the couch. He knitted his big, strong fingers with her slender ones and tugged her into the dimly lit kitchen. When he looked down at her, he brought his palms to her cheeks and kissed her very gently. "Take care," he said, "until I get back. I won't call, so don't expect to hear from me until I'm back."

  She gazed into his eyes, but saw no answers in his dark pupils. His secrets were well hidden behind thick lashes.

  "All right," she said.

  "Lock up, Carla. And sleep well."

  "Yes, of course. I always do. Goodnight, Evan. Safe trip."

  He turned and went down the few steps to the side door. When he turned it was to say, "Give those roses plenty of water until they take. Okay?"

  She waved and smiled back as the door closed behind him. She forced herself to keep from crying, but unwanted tears still welled in her eyes. After Evan left, Carla lingered in the kitchen, rinsing off the two plates, the mugs, and some silverware. Very soon, she wouldn't see him, talk and laugh with him, have sex with him, ever again. That's what it came down to. Well, that's what he told her would happen weeks ago; the knights were rotated every couple of months. It's what she expected, wasn't it? So why did not seeing, touching, fucking him again seem so painfully bleak?

  She shook her head in frustration.

  Because dammit, I'm 37 years old and he's 28. And I'm falling in love with him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The next day, Carla met the Barry twins in the second floor hallway. They paused to chat before going outside for their morning constitutional.

  "Well, dear, did you do anything new and exciting during your weekend off?"

  Oh, Lord, did I!

  "Let's see, Jessie." Carla eyed the ceiling as if concentrating, recalling what she'd done last Saturday and Sunday. She counted on one hand with the tips of her fingers. "I did my laundry on Saturday. That was before I went food shopping. I had my hair cut after lunch. I washe
d the car, pulled some weeds in the garden and cut the grass--oh, yes, that's right. I planted two rosebushes in my backyard."

  She never let on that she had gone to Atlantic City the week prior, or that Evan spent it in Caesar's fucking her. She could have told them even more.

  On Sunday night I had Evan Lupo suckling and biting my breasts and devouring me in the most sensitive places anybody could imagine. And I held his huge, hot cock in my hands and drove him to a frenzy on the loveseat on my back porch until he spurted his seed into my hands.

  "Other than that, ladies, it was the usual weekend." Carla crossed her fingers behind her back. "That's the story of my uninteresting existence. What did you do while I was gone?"

  "Well, Maddy was saying nasty things--more like cursing--while working on the New York Times crossword puzzle," Jessie said.

  Carla arched her brows. "Do you do that, too, Maddy? It drives me nuts, and I never get halfway through the darn thing."

  "Sometimes I get so mad I throw it across the room," Maddy said cheerfully. "Either my mind is turning to mush or they're making it more difficult these days."

  Jessie frowned, but her sister just chuckled.

  "We're taking our walk now, Carla," Jessie said, "hoping to meet that lovely landscaper fellow. We've missed seeing him. We thought perhaps ... well, let's see if we can speak with him again."

  The Barry sisters said their good-byes and continued down the hall while Carla went on her rounds. No use checking Mrs. P's bedroom or the Barry sisters' apartment. They wouldn't find him in the garden. He said he wouldn't be around for a few days.

  Jessie and Maddy chattered to Carla's assistants and to Mike downstairs, who opened the outside door for them. They strolled toward the river and sat on a bench, looking at the boats bobbing on the water. After half an hour, they turned back since it was nearing lunchtime.

  "There he is, Jessie. He's working where we weren't able to see him. Let's go talk to him, find out if he's interested in meeting a nice girl."

  As they approached Evan, the twins chorused, "Good morning, young man." "We missed seeing you."

  "Ah, ladies. Been busy elsewhere, but I make it my business to come here whenever I can, like now. I haven't been able to for a week." He bent down and picked off a dead blossom. "The roses need careful tending, just the way ladies do." He grinned down at them and wiped a forearm across his perspiring brow.

  "Well, young fella, I think you might be right," Maddy agreed.

  Smiling back, Jessie thought his snowy teeth lit up his bronzed face like the sun. "So, your girlfriend has kept you busy, huh? Are you going steady?"

  Evan chuckled. "Now, now ladies, you asked me that once before. I told you I'm not ready to settle down."

  The twins looked at each other, then at Evan. "How old are you, young man?"

  "Twenty-eight my last birthday, ma'am. Why? Are one of you young chicks looking for a new boyfriend?" He winked at them. Evan loved bantering with older ladies. Sometimes they would go right back at him and give him a good roasting, or at least give him a good laugh.

  "Twenty-eight and not married? What a shame!" Maddy waggled her index finger at him. "You could have had a couple of kids by now if you'd work at it as often as you do here in the rose garden."

  Evan laughed, deep down, and held up a big palm. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Well, I'll get there soon enough. First I've got to latch onto the right lady." His grin widened. "But, never fear. I'm checkin' around."

  "We know someone you'd like," Jessie began.

  "Whoa, don't get on my case, ladies. I like to pick my own women."

  "But ... if you haven't found one, we can help."

  "'Bye, ladies." Evan dumped several garden tools into the wheelbarrow and pushed it toward the maintenance shack. "Thanks, just the same," he called over a brawny shoulder.

  Maddy yanked on her sister's sleeve and the two aging ladies turned and made their way toward the main building. "Told you he wouldn't like us pestering him, sister. Maybe we can find some other way. We've got to show him so he sees what a fine woman Carla is. Let's just think on it some more."

  * * * *

  Carla's week dragged on. Missing Evan, concerned and unsure of his feelings toward her, she came home from work and kept herself busy. Otherwise, she had too much time to think. Especially if he came back from Chicago and announced he was leaving for good. And she knew he would. Soon. He'd told her that much.

  She emptied kitchen cabinet drawers, arranged shelves, and got rid of some out-of-style clothes taking up too much space in her closets. She was running on raw, unchained energy, but she had to burn it up or go nuts waiting for him to return.

  By Thursday, she couldn't think of anything else to clean or straighten. She ate supper outside in the backyard, and threw herself onto the chaise after she finished. She was almost ready to fall asleep right there when she thought she heard a car pull up out front. It was getting dark. Her heart soared.

  Evan!

  She hopped up off the chaise and made herself go slowly. It wouldn't do to act like a oversexed teenager throwing herself into her boyfriend's arms, although that's what she wanted desperately to do.

  Carla walked around the side of the house to the front yard. The black, shiny automobile parked in front wasn't Evan's familiar white Caddy. This was a new model Cadillac, and on the stoop in front of her door, pushing the doorbell, were two men she had never seen before.

  "Can I help you?" she asked. She didn't approach the men, but remained on the narrow sidewalk leading to the rear of the house.

  "Mrs. Moore?" Both men turned, then dismounted the steps and walked toward her.

  "I'm Mrs. Moore," she replied. The questioning lilt in her voice asked silently.

  "We're looking for Evan Lupo."

  She looked the men up and down, and didn't like the looks of either of them, although both were well dressed in dress shirts, subdued ties, and dark business suits. She recognized immediately that the suits were tailored of textured silk and probably expensive.

  The one who'd asked for Evan was the shorter of the two. He was broad-shouldered, squat and heavily muscled under the flashy fabric.

  "He's not here. May I ask who you gentlemen are?"

  Rocco gave her a toothy grin.

  A surge of adrenaline jolted in Carla's chest when she saw a certain resemblance to Evan's smile.

  "I'm his cousin Rocco. I been lookin' for him for a week. Where's he at? I thought maybe you'd know."

  He looked well-to-do but hearing his speech pattern, Carla could tell he wasn't well educated. The second man took a couple of steps closer, keeping a hand in his jacket pocket. To Carla he looked almost threatening. She liked his looks even less than those of Evan's cousin.

  "Er ... I'm not really sure," she replied. Let them find out for themselves, she thought. It wasn't her prerogative to give anyone details about Evan's whereabouts.

  "When're you expectin' him back?" Rocco asked.

  "I really wouldn't know. He doesn't live here. And besides, it's none of my business. Or yours." She retorted brusquely, giving him a flip answer.

  "Look, lady..." the other man started to say.

  "Hold on, Luigi," Rocco said, his voice low and cajoling. "If da little lady don't know, then she don't know, umm?"

  Evan's cousin smiled at Carla again. She was sure he didn't believe one word she said. "But you know my cousin, right? I guess you know him pretty good, bein' as you was in Atlantic City wit him a few weeks ago." His heavy, black eyebrows lifted in an unvoiced question. "I seen you there."

  Carla blanched, then blinked, losing her composure momentarily. Her eyes snapped to the man's ruddy cheeks. She saw his expression was bland, but she didn't like the hidden gleam that flashed in his eyes when he squinted. She took her time nodding in agreement. This was all too mysterious--this twilight interrogation taking place in her front yard. It was a little bit scary because of the big, black Cadillac parked out front and the tense aura the two men projecte
d. Plus she was alone, wearing short shorts and a tight T-shirt. She had seen them eyeing her as they'd turned to face her. Now she crossed her arms over her chest although doing so was no protection from their leers.

  The sun was sinking below the horizon, leaving dark shadows beneath the full-leafed trees overhanging her small front lawn. Thank goodness, there were lights on in the house next door and people at home if she needed to yell for help. Then she shook the thoughts out of her head. The intimidators hadn't come closer, nor had they touched her. They simply made her nervous. What did these men want with Evan anyway?

  "This is important, Mrs. Moore," Rocco said, his raspy voice taking on more of a business-like tone. "See, it's this way. I gotta to talk to Evan A-S-A-P." He reached for a card case from the breast pocket inside his jacket and handed Carla his business card. "Evan knows me. Like I say, he's my cousin. It's important that I talk to him. Soon, okay?"

  Carla glanced down at the card. "You're a Newark councilman?"

  "You got it right, chickee." He winked at her.

  Chickee?

  Again, he smiled. This one gave her the creeps. It wasn't like Evan's toothy grin after all.

  "Make sure he gets it, sweetheart."

  Both men turned without a word of goodbye, got into the shiny Cadillac and sped off.

  Carla stood rooted to the sidewalk watching the Caddy leave. A frisson of anxiety cooled the marrow in her bones, although it was plenty warm in her front yard. By the looks of those two, she surmised they could be part of the mob. Both were Italian, like Evan. Was Evan mixed up with them somehow, or with Newark politics? Oh God, what had she gotten herself into? Better yet, what had Evan got himself into?

  * * * *

  Evan located Luca Amante two weeks too late. The funeral had taken place in a Chicago suburb. Amante's wife had predeceased him, and his two mature daughters didn't seem to know anything about Luca's connections with the Gardenia family.