by E. C. Towers
“You know Derek will mercilessly interrogate him, then kick his teeth in for breaking into the house. We can do that to him. He's just a kid.”
Linda winced at the word, as she had almost given into her passion with this “kid.” She knew Dalila was right, though: they couldn't tell Derek. It sounded like the smart thing to do, but Linda felt uncomfortable about it. How did she know that this Jacob guy was really who he says he was? What if he was some undercover cop? Linda was way in over her head, and as dumb as the notion of informing Derek of the situation way, he would certainly know exactly what to do.
Dalila made a plate from the breakfast platter left out by the kitchen girl; two fresh bagels and a large sliver of cream cheese, with a healthy dollop of strawberry jelly, to make it sweet. A full breakfast, she mused, before handing it to Linda.
“Go back there now, before Derek comes out and starts asking you more questions about the noises you heard. He can spot a liar as good as any detective. And I know you're smart and all, but I don't think you'll be a good enough liar for him not to notice. Not to mention, that hot piece of ass in your closet is probably really hungry right now.”
Dalila smiled and shuddered with pleasure on the inside as she pictured that perfect young ginger specimen lying on Linda's closet floor, shirtless and sleeping. He looked quite tasty, and if it were up to her, she would be up for a free sample.
Linda took heed of her advice and headed out the door.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
Linda's mind was frazzled with everything that was going on in her head. First, she had to figure out what to do with Jacob; should she let him go? What if he goes back home and tells the police about her? But he couldn't remain as her personal closet monkey; Derek was sure to discover him, kick the shit out of him, stuff his ass full of heroin and use him as a mule. At the same time, she was also confused about her burgeoning feelings for Dalila, and wondered if she felt the same. And how could she keep that from Derek, as well? It was a cocktail of fear and insecurity that only he bore the ability to bring out in her.
Jacob heard the door open. She was back, thank god. He woke up half an hour ago, sweaty and sore, with his hands still taped behind his back. The closet reeked of his sweat.
He watched the door open lightly followed by Linda, who stepped inside and handed him a bagel. Jacob's stomach lurched and growled loudly. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he saw the golden brown bagel that smelled faintly of herbs and onions. She placed the plate down in front of him, pulled out a box knife and proceeded to cut him free from the duct tape wrapped around his hands.
“Before I let you out,” she paused her cutting, "just know that if you try to run out of here or leave, I'll call out the dogs. You'll be getting humped by a German Shepherd before you make it three feet out that door. You get me?”
God, she smelled good; Jacob closed his eyes and took her in.
“Hello!? Do you get me?”
“Yes,” he snapped out of it, “yes, I get you. I promise, I'm not going to run away, I will eat the fuck out of that bagel, though."
Linda thought she heard his stomach growl at the end of that sentence. She made the final cut and released him. Jacob snatched his hands forward and free, so happy to be able to stretch his shoulders and back despite the painful wince of his eyes.
“Oh, my god, sleeping in that was hell,” Jacob moaned, grabbing his right shoulder with his left hand and massaging his tight muscles.
“I'm so sorry. I... I couldn't...” she fumbled for her words.
"No, I get it,” Jacob didn't let her finish.
He felt bad for making her feel afraid.
“This is my fault. I mean, you had to...”
They both looked down on the ground, avoiding each other's eyes. He eased the tension by devouring the bagel Linda had set out in front of him.
“Listen, Jacob,” she started, “you need to...”
“LINDA!” Derek's voice cut through the air.
She jumped in surprise. She rose hurriedly and clamored out of the closet to close the door behind her.
“DALILA!? BOTH OF YOU CHICKS GET OUT HERE!” he screamed.
Although he was yelling at the top of his voice, Linda noticed that he didn't sound angry. He sounded amused.
Linda bolted out of the closet and gasped in surprise as she bumped into Dalila, who had apparently snuck in the guesthouse and was eavesdropping at the door. She glared at Dalila, who could only offer her a sheepish smile. They looked out of the window and saw a strange guy trying to wiggle out of Derek's grip from the back of his t-shirt. They both rushed out her door to get a closer look.
“Do any of you girls know who this little maggot is that I've got right here?” Derek yanked the young man close to him as he spat out his question on to his freckled face.
“Derek, what the hell are you doing?” Dalila insisted.
“I saw this fucking pendejo messing with the gate, trying to get in!”
Derek pressed his cheek against the pale fellow he had by his shirt.
“Do you have a death wish, my friend? You want to fuckin’ die today?”
The poor bastard attempted a clumsy kick at Derek, who dodged out of the way in one smooth move, causing him to spin in an almost full circle as Derek held his shirt tautly.
He let go of the strange young man's shirt briefly, wrapped his arms around the guy and slammed him onto the grass, knocking the wind out of him. Derek walked away as Linda ran to try to help the stranger struggling to catch his breath.
The young man looked at her and coughed out, "Jacob? Do you kno..?”
Fuck! She panicked but managed to interrupt him before he uttered another word.
“Yes...wait. I know this guy,” Linda blurted out, not exactly knowing how she was going to explain how she knew him.
“Yeah, I know him, too,” Dalila joined, nonchalantly lighting her cigarette.
She glanced at Linda to let her know that she needed to shut her mouth and let her talk.
Derek looked at both of them, confused, “You girls know this guy? Who the hell is he?”
“He's the flower guy. He works at florist three blocks over, you idiot,” Dalila chuckled.
“The flower guy? The flower guy? If he's the flower guy, where the fuck are his flowers and why was he trying to get into the gate without knocking?”
Derek walked back up to the kid and yanked him back up by his shirt. He looked at Linda, waiting for an answer.
She remained frozen, thankful when Dalila stepped in, once again.
“He was coming here to take an order from me, okay? I told him to let himself in, but I totally forgot about unlocking the gate.”
Dalila looked Derek straight in the eye as she exhaled a plume of smoke. She could spot a liar too and knew what not to do when telling a fib. Dalila looked him in the eye, and her stare didn't waver. She didn't go into any unnecessary details and allowed Derek to pull the information out of her.
Derek squinted his eyes at Dalila, suspiciously.
“Well, he does look a little familiar. Man, where in hell do I know you from?"
The young man looked completely puzzled by the question.
“Do you do this a lot, D? Leave gates open for young guys to just walk right in? Is there something I need to know about?”
She laughed at his ridiculous insinuation.
“Really, Derek? Are you saying what I think you're saying?” Dalila turned the tables on him, leaving Derek to explain himself and divert his focus from her lying.
“Well, it's just weird. I mean, why didn't you just call it in? And who are you ordering flowers for anyway?”
"My prima just got engaged, and I agreed to let them they want to have the wedding here. I wanted him to measure the gazebo and give me ideas. I’m thinking about a flower arch to surprise her.”
Linda was impressed; the lies all came out so casually and organically, clearly leading Derek into each question.
“So you didn't
even ask me? You're just going to host a wedding in my house without my permission?" Derek was still holding the poor guy by his shirt, but at least he appeared to have gotten his breath back, watching in fear as Derek and Dalila went at it.
“Motherfucker, first of all, it's next year. Second, you're never here anyway. And third, you're not even going to be here because it's scheduled to happen around the week of your birthday trip to Las Vegas with the guys. And fourth, it's my house, too. Why the fuck would I bother discussing something you wouldn't even give a fuck about during the five minutes a week you bother to speak with me?”
She stared at him with cold, steely eyes, causing him to glance down, silently admitting defeat.
“Now let the poor bastard go so I can apologize to him for this, and get to wherever the hell you need to go. You're probably late, now.”
Derek glanced at his watch.
“Shit! You're right.”
He released the guy's shirt and patted him on the back.
“Sorry, man. I didn't know. I’ll make it up to you, all right?”
He shrugged his shoulders and flashed the charming smile that somehow managed to soften up a guy he almost beat the living crap out of.
The young man nodded quietly, unsure of what he could say.
“I knew you would! Thanks, man. Okay, I'll let you do your thing!”
Derek gave him one last pat on the back as he headed out.
“Bye, wife!” he called out to Dalila, giving her an air kiss.
“Bye, jackass,” she responded and flashed a middle finger.
Derek laughed, “I love you too, D.”
The gate closed behind him, and as soon as his car backed out of the driveway and drove out of view, Linda and Dalila corralled the young man into the main house.
“Sit down,” Dalila ordered.
He sat down on the giant couch that swallowed him, making the young man look even smaller and fragile than he already was.
“Who the fuck are you?” Dalila sternly asked.
“He asked for Jacob,” Linda filled her in. “You asked for Jacob earlier, right?”
“Yeah. I'm Jacob's brother. He's been missing, and I've been trying to track him down for a week now. The hotel he was staying at called me to say he never checked out. I found out which internet cafe he used where I got an email from him last, and someone at the cafe said the last time they saw him he was by this house. Do you know my brother?”
His hazel eyes lit up at the hope that they had found him.
Dalila and Linda looked at each other with concern.
“You're Linda” he realized. “You used to live in Driftwood Cove. I know about you. You know my brother, right?”
As Linda was about to respond, Jacob came bursting through the door.
“Will! What are you doing here!?”
He ran to his brother who got up and hugged Jacob.
“Oh, my god, I thought you were dead, bro. Where the hell have you been?”
He broke his brotherly embrace and pushed Jacob away in anger.
“Listen, Wi....”
“No, you both listen,” Dalila cut in. “Both of you are going back to the guest house right now and stay there until we come.”
The brothers hesitated, which made her snap.
“My husband might come back, and if you fuckers are in his house, he will string both of you up by your balls and put fire ants on your dicks. I'm fresh out of lies to cover both your asses. Now, am I going to have to tell you guys again? Do you want me to draw you a map to the guest house?”
Dalila raised voice got both of the brothers scrambling for the door and walking hastily back to the guesthouse.
As soon as they left, Dalila bore deathly stares into Linda’s eyes.
“Why did you take the duct tape off his hands? Are you crazy?” she yelled at her.
“He'd been in those for more than eight hours…” Linda tried to explain.
“So, who cares?! And then you walk out the door and leave him in there alone? What if he had walked out while Derek was here?”
“Listen, he didn't, so why even stress about it?” Linda tried to calm her down.
She had enjoyed the fact that Dalila was warming up to her, and she didn't want her to revert to being cold and distant.
Dalila chuckled more out of irritation than amusement.
“You've been gone too long. You don't know what that big buffoon is capable of!”
Linda was taken aback by how her perception of their marriage had changed drastically from when she had first arrived. In the beginning, they appeared to be a sweet couple in love with each other. But, as each day passed, it seemed like Derek was in love while Dalila merely tolerating him.
“I haven't forgotten. But the fact is, he didn't see them. So let's get over it and figure out what the hell is going on.”
Dalila nodded, and they both returned to the guesthouse to formulate a plan.
12
A Ritual Of Lies
Derek knew something was up. He had seen that guy before; a police officer's son, if he was correct. As the moments flew by, he became sure of it. Derek got into his car and left his house in hopes that Dalila had heard him leave. He circled around the block to parked at the far end of his street, walking back the remaining quarter mile to his house. Derek didn't let himself in through the main gate to avoid alerting the girls that he was back. Instead, he scaled the wall that was near his bedroom and climbed onto the balcony.
The double windows were open, and he easily got back inside just in time to hear someone open the front door and pad down the hallway towards the bedroom. It was Dalila. He hid behind the bathroom door and peeked through the hinges. She walked into the bedroom to the edge of their bed, deep in thought. So deep that she didn't notice Derek step out of the bathroom and come up behind her.
“Hey, you.”
Dalila felt hot breath on the nape of her neck, and just as she was about to whip around to see who was behind her, a big hand went over her mouth. She struggled against the large man who smelled familiar.
Derek? She had guessed right as he turned her around, keeping his hand over her mouth.
“You're going to be quiet, okay?” he calmly instructed her, rather than asked.
She stopped struggling and knew by his tone that he was serious. He would probably break her neck if she kept trying to wriggle away from his grasp. Derek stared at her with his deep blue eyes, a piercing contrast to his golden bronze skin. No matter how hot and humid the weather got, he somehow never looked out of place. While Dalila was already perspiring just from the walk back from the guesthouse, Derek was still fresh and perfect. It was completely annoying.
Dalila stood still, never breaking eye contact with him.
He smiled, “Better. It's never a problem with you, is it Dalila? Always the cool, calm and clever. That's your natural state of being all the time. You don't think I notice when you fake it?”
Ashamed that she hadn't been able to pull it off, Dalila glare at him defiantly.
“So proud,” Derek smiled.
So very proud, he thought, shaking his head. No matter what he changed or what he did, Derek always ended up with a version of Linda, one way or another. Proud, stubborn, beautiful, and smart; Derek was a picky man. He reveled in his title of man and doing all the things real men should do to separate them from the herd. One of those things was how to properly choose their lady. A real man requires that a woman be more than just good looks. In fact, a real man knows that a woman's true beauty shows itself as you get to know who she is beyond her physical gifts. It was an elevated way of thinking. He was not a mindless gorilla, enslaved to his urges. A man could control his urges, contain them if necessary, and allow them to come out whenever he saw fit.
Now was one of those times.
Derek replaced his hand with his mouth as he kissed Dalila roughly on the lips, pushing her against the wall. She growled as she devoured him in return. Dalila couldn't contain herself. De
rek's stare was intense, the smell of the sun on him, the aftershave on the collar of his shirt. Her body ached for him and loathed the sight of him at the first time. She hated him for what he had made her become; a useless trophy wife whose respect was bought and paid for. There was nothing she did to warrant such levels of respect. Whenever she went out, the owners of whatever store she visited went out of their way to accommodate her needs, practically shoving their inventory into her hands for free. It was respect that had been purchased by him, and she hated the feeling of her honor having been bought.
Dalila resented him, hated him even, but at the same time, needed him. She clawed at his back as he continued kissing her all over. She bit his neck, and he grunted as she drew a little blood. Derek pushed her onto the bed like a rag doll and mounted her. She was prepared for him as he pressed and rubbed his hard cock on her pelvis. The heat from his organ penetrated his trousers and grew in intensity as he grinded into her. Dalila could only stand a few moments of it before releasing it and grasping the thick meat, already damp from pre-cum. Dalila rolled her fingers slowly up the head of his shaft, feeling every ridge and vein on the way up. Derek shuddered as her hands played him like an instrument.
Weakened to her touch, she pushed him over onto the bed and lifted herself on top in one fell swoop. Dalila fell sleekly between his legs, inching her way down torso to kiss and lick his stomach, pressing the tip of her tongue into the groove of his hip muscles. She trailed down to his hard and quivering cock. She pressed her lips against his head and slowly opened her mouth, taking him inside with a concentrated fashion, making her mouth tight and wet.
Derek gasped as he struggled not to come right there and then. Dalila worked his flesh like an expert, deep throating his entire member with focused concentration, torturing him with unseen tricks, then backing off just as he thought he would burst. She teased and tormented him until he couldn't stand it any longer. He raised her up by her shoulders, and they kissed. Full of passion and hate between their lips, they sucked on each other’s tongues and mouths. He guided his cock in between her thighs, plunged deep into her as he found that hot and damp crevice, coating himself with her silky juices. Derek pounded into her, and she met him greedily with each thrust, taking him all the way in. The pressure in his loins was released in an awkward frenzy as he pulled out and came all over her stomach as if it had happened to him urgently and without his consent.
