Tap Dancing with the Devil

by Faith Gibson

  “You can’t mean that, Lex. Cheating is never a good thing.”

  “No? Are you telling me Neil satisfies you in the bedroom? Puts your needs before his and gets you off every time?”

  “No, but…” Amanda looks down at her phone and sighs.

  “Are you going to leave Neil?”

  “I can’t. I… He’d never let me go, no matter how badly I want it.”

  I sense there’s something Amanda isn’t telling me, but I’m not going to pry. The less I know, the better. If there is one thing I’ve learned from being a cop’s wife, it’s the person with the most knowledge is the one with the most to lose. We settle back into contemplative silence. Several times Amanda looks up from her phone like she wants to say something, but then her face shuts down, and she remains quiet. I feel bad for my best friend, because I know exactly how Amanda feels – trapped, and it isn’t a good feeling. Knowing you are stuck in a loveless marriage sucks. Who knows? Maybe tonight will turn out to be a good one for her.

  After I finish the color, I style her hair for her dinner with Neil. She shows me a picture of the dress she’s wearing later tonight, so I give her a pin-up do that will make heads turn. Her dickhead husband might not appreciate her, but the other men in the room will. Even with a few extra pounds, Amanda Perry makes pushing forty look fabulous. By the time I’m finished with her hair and make-up, my best friend is stunning.

  Before she walks out the front door, Amanda stops. “Lex, forget about what I said.” She gives me a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes.

  “You got it, honey.” I lock the door behind her and gather up the bowls and brushes to take to the sink. While I’m washing them out, I think about what she said, regardless of her telling me to forget about it. Getting away from Adam is all I think about these days. My mother tells me life is too short to spend with a man you despise, yet she doesn’t tell me how to leave Adam without him coming after me.

  I’m probably going to hell for thinking it, but sometimes I imagine getting that phone call. I would pretend to be the grieving widow while inside I would be rejoicing. If that makes me a shitty person, so be it. There’s only so much one can take from the person who’s supposed to love them before you begin to hate them. You never expect for better or worse to always be worse.

  After I call and order pizza to be delivered, I close down the shop and head out to the parking lot. My salon is in a strip mall where a couple of businesses stay open late. I pay more rent for the location, but it’s worth it being able to come out to a well-lit parking lot. Several motorcycles are parked close to my car. I’ve seen these same bikes a few times but have yet to see the riders. That’s probably a good thing, since I always did like bad boys. I dated a guy in high school who rode a bike. My mother became Catholic during those few months, crossing herself every time I left the house and strapped on a helmet. I haven’t thought about Rod in a long time. He was a wild child if there ever was one, but he was fun to hang out with. I never felt safer than when I was with him. You’d think a cop would make you feel safe, but it doesn’t always work out that way.

  As I pull out of the lot, an older model Chevy rumbles past, going the opposite direction, reminding me of the one I heard a few nights ago. The one that was parked across the street at Mrs. Williams’s house. I don’t know the woman well. As a matter of fact, I don’t know any of my neighbors well. All I know about the older woman is her husband passed away a few years back, and her granddaughter has been living with her. The shiny, red and black Chevy must belong to the younger woman’s boyfriend. Thinking of the car, I make a mental note to call my dad and tell him I’m coming for a visit.

  Cass

  With Violet working most nights, it’s hard for us to get together unless it’s after she’s home from her shift. Since I need her for my plan, I’ve been swinging around her place to spend quality time getting to know her. Most of that quality time has been spent fucking and sucking, but we have shared a few words. I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to ask for her help, but it’s Violet who brings up my stay in prison and how I plan on getting back at those who wronged me.

  I return from the bathroom where I tossed the condom and washed my hands. I’m ready to leave, but she has other plans. She hands me an already open beer, and when I take a seat on the sofa, she straddles my lap. This is the way we sit most of the time, whether she’s trying to get in my pants or pick my brain. After taking a long pull off her beer, Violet says, “There’s something special about you, Ryan Cassidy, and it’s not just your wicked tongue. I want to help you get your revenge. Tell me what I can do to help.”

  I choose my words carefully. I need to make her feel special and throw down the gauntlet at the same time. I run a finger down her face and pull at her bottom lip. “I can’t ask you to get involved, Violet. I like being around you. I think you’re a wonderful woman, the way you take care of your grandmother, and you work really hard. The things I need done aren’t for someone as sweet as you. I need someone with a little more grit and less morals, if you will. Neil Perry has been going to see Gloria Pitman once a week at Jack’s Place for the past six months, but I don’t know her. I need someone I trust to get close to him. To seduce him. Keep him busy after hours.”

  “And you don’t think I can seduce this man?”

  “Of course I do. I have every faith in your sultry abilities, but I can’t ask that of you.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

  “Is my cock not enough for you?” I ask teasingly as I reach between us and grab said cock.

  “Oh, it’s more than enough. But seriously, Ryan. I want to help, and I don’t see how keeping this cop occupied for a couple of hours is going to be that hard to do. I mean, Gloria’s pretty and all, but I am younger.”

  Violet working at Jack’s Place is like the cosmos throwing an extra ace in my hand when I’m already holding three of them. I have no idea why she’s so eager to help, but there it is. I sigh for good measure, and say, “If you’re sure.” When she nods, I tell her exactly what I want from her.

  ***

  Three days later as I’m driving to the safe house, I pass by where Adam’s wife works. Most of the lights are off in her shop, so I don’t get a glimpse of her. It’s been years since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Murdock, but if she’s aged gracefully in the least, I’m not going to have a hard time trying to get into her panties. Some might say I’m a rat bastard for trying to wreck a few homes while getting my revenge. I might say I don’t give two fucks. The bastards ruined my life, so me getting into bed with their women should be the last thing they worry about. They’re the ones who kept me from getting pussy for thirteen years, so it’s only fitting they pay with their pussy now that I’m out.

  If things go my way, I’ll have at least my fingers up in some of that pussy tonight. I pull the SS into the garage and grab the new clothes Violet bought for me. I head straight to the bedroom and lay the garment bags across the bed. I unzip the first one and pull out a grey suit with a blue shirt and matching tie. The second one contains a black suit with a maroon shirt and matching tie. A paper shopping bag holds a pair of black dress shoes that cost a whack, but if I’m going to look the part of a well-off businessman, I don’t need to be wearing shit. At the bottom of the bag is a plastic one filled with hair products. When I dump the stuff on the bed, a piece of paper floats out, landing on top of the bottles.

  Ryan, you didn’t ask for styling products, but I thought you might want to tame that shit you call hair. While I happen to love the caveman look, others might not. Pour a quarter size amount of gel on your hand then run it through your hair away from your face. Spray it lightly and you should be good to go. Just keep your hands out of your hair afterwards. XOXO

  Sassy bitch. I decide to mess with my hair first, that way if I don’t like it, I can stick my head under the faucet and rinse it out without having to get undressed. Turns out, Violet was right. I turn my head left and righ
t, looking at my beard. Nothing in the bag is gonna help that mess, so I guess Amanda Perry is going to get half a caveman if things go my way tonight. After I’ve dressed, I decide to skip the tie. It looks nice, but it chokes the ever-loving fuck out of me. I slip my arms through the coat sleeves to see how I look. Being dressed up takes me back to the days of my youth when I wore a suit on a regular basis. The suit is the only similarity between the man in the mirror and the boy I used to be.

  Not wanting to dwell on the past, I grab the keys to the sedan and head out to the restaurant where Neil and Amanda Perry have reservations for dinner. As I step up to the host stand, I pull out a Benjamin and slide it over to the young man checking people in. I lower my voice and tell him my name and ask that he seat me in the same area as the Perrys. With wide eyes, he nods and says, “Right this way.” I follow him to the back of the restaurant where mostly couples are seated. It doesn’t take me long to find Neil and his wife. He’s still the same lanky bastard he was thirteen years ago. His wife, on the other hand, has filled out quite nicely. For an older woman, she’s curvy in all the right places. This could turn out to be an interesting evening.

  Chapter 7

  Cass

  Neil Perry rises from the table to take a phone call, leaving his wife alone. Amanda is beautiful in a fifties pin-up sort of way. Lots of big, brown hair, a full set of tits overflowing from her dress, and legs that go on for days. She continues to sip her wine in her husband’s absence. As if she feels my eyes boring into the back of her long, brown mane, she glances over her shoulder, her eyes widening. I know I look rough. If it wasn’t for the expensive-looking suit, I probably would have been turned away at the door. Money, or the hint of it, tends to pave the way for many people who should be behind bars, or at least appear as if they should. It’s my appearance that gives me the balls to sit so close to the motherfucker and his wife without fear of being recognized.

  I raise my glass of bourbon in salute, and her cheeks flush pink. More than once, Amanda turns slightly, never looking me in the eye. Her profile is exquisite. Lucky for me, these motherfuckers all landed gorgeous women.

  When Neil returns to the table, he is visibly flustered. “I have to go. Here…” He tosses a twenty on the table. “Catch a cab, and I’ll see you at home.” Neil doesn’t wait around for his wife to comment, and Amanda slumps a little lower in her chair. Considering we are in one of the finest restaurants in South Texas, it’s obvious she spent a good deal of time getting ready. Date night has been cut short, and by the looks of their clothes, they were celebrating something. Amanda downs her wine and signals for the waiter. Taking full advantage of the situation, I rise from my table and insinuate myself into the vacated seat next to her.

  “I do apologize, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. If I may be so bold, it would be a shame for you to go home now. The night is young, and you have more than half a bottle of wine to drink. What if I keep you company and make sure you get into a taxi safely at the end of the evening?”

  A smart woman would take one look at me and refuse immediately. At six foot six, I’m an imposing sight. Even though I attempted to tame my caveman look, as Violet called it, Amanda should have looked a little deeper before allowing me anywhere near her. She may have been smart at one point, but tonight, loneliness wins out over sensibility. Neil has left her alone far too often, and I’m using that to my advantage.

  When she agrees to my company, I introduce myself. “Theodore Finch,” I offer as I refill her empty glass.

  “Amanda Perry,” she says, extending her hand. Instead of shaking it, I brush my whisker-covered lips across her knuckles. Her eyes track the movement, following my mouth when I raise my head. I should have trimmed my beard as well as my hair, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I don’t give Amanda much time to talk. She sips her wine and listens while I tell her about my business ventures and trips to exotic places. The wistfulness in her eyes when I speak of swimming in the crystal waters of my very own island paradise is the moment I hook her.

  “It really is too bad you’re married. I would love to have a beautiful woman such as yourself on my arm at the charity fundraiser I’m attending next week. My sister was supposed to attend as my date, but she’s about to give birth to twins, and she feels fat. I tell her that carrying a baby is the most beautiful thing a woman can do. I would give anything to be a father,” I say, allowing my focus to glaze over as if I’ve been transported to another place. Another time. Damian, my former cellmate, is the one who suggested the crazy story when he dropped off my fake driver’s license to go along with my fake name.

  “I would imagine you could have any woman you want, Mr. Finch. A woman who would be privileged to carry your child.” The wine is taking effect, and her words aren’t as clear as they were when I sat down next to her. Amanda places a hand on my arm, her red nails matching her mouth. She has been drinking for over an hour, and yet, the color has remained on her lips and not on her glass. Too bad.

  I remove my arm from under her hand and place it along the back of her chair, leaning in closer. “Sadly, the woman I want is spoken for, Amanda. Another man swept in and claimed the princess before I could even mount my faithful steed.” And you aren’t that princess. Speaking such cheesy words goes against everything ingrained in me, but I read books and articles online to learn what women like to hear – fairy tales.

  Promises of better things to come.

  Lies.

  When my thumb brushes across the bare skin of her shoulder, Amanda shivers and licks her lips. Even though she isn’t my type, my cock twitches inside my dress pants as thoughts of her pink tongue licking said cock accost my brain. I adjust the growing erection, not bothering to hide the gesture from her. When she notices my predicament, her less-than-clear eyes flash to mine. The wine has done its job, and there is an offer in her expression to take care of my situation. Amanda Perry is indeed a lonely woman. I have her hooked.

  “I do apologize, Amanda, but it is getting late, and I need to make some phone calls.” I signal the waiter over. After paying both our tabs, I escort her outside. As I’m walking her out, an older man bumps into my shoulder. He apologizes to me, but he’s looking at Amanda. Maybe he recognizes Mrs. Perry. If he does, he doesn’t say anything about her leaving with the wrong man. Something about him raises my hackles. Something vaguely familiar.

  I let the odd feeling go and continue outside with Mrs. Perry. When we reach the sidewalk, I wrap her hand around my arm and lead her away from the entrance. In her wine-altered condition, she follows willingly. Stupid, stupid woman. When we reach the corner of the building, I pull her into the shadows, push her back against the bricks none too gently, and even though it’s against my rules, I take her mouth in a fierce kiss. Amanda gasps, and I take advantage before she can protest. Her tongue melds with mine. She kisses me like I’m her goddamn lifeline. As if she would die without my lips on hers. Wine mixing with bourbon is an interesting concoction.

  Amanda grasps at my biceps, attempting to pull me, or push me, I can’t tell which. I have kept our bodies separated on purpose, but with her such a willing participant, I dare to take things further. The possibility that someone can stumble upon us at any moment adds to the thrill of what I’m doing. Dipping my hand under the hem of her dress, I skim my fingertips along her thigh. When I reach the silkiness of her panties, I brush across the already damp material.

  The longer I touch her, the wetter she becomes. I make sure the panties are good and soaked before I slip my other hand underneath her dress and slide the lace lingerie down her legs. Amanda lifts one foot, then the other, and I grasp the keepsake of the night in my hand. Keeping my eyes on hers, I bring the fabric to my nose and inhale deeply. Her eyes hood over, and I half-smile at her reaction. It doesn’t take much to turn Mrs. Perry on.

  After I shove the satin into my coat pocket, I return my hands to the bare flesh of her ass, sliding one hand under her knee so I can wrap one of her long leg
s around my hip. My cock is now in line with her exposed pussy. Using the friction of my pants, I rub my erection against her clit. Amanda drops her purse to the ground and grabs a handful of my long hair, pulling my head down for another kiss. This one is just as frantic as the first. She is too intoxicated to keep it neat. I’m not much into sloppy kisses unless those kisses are aimed at my dick, so I break apart from her lips and wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

  I press against her harder. Faster. Leaning in, I bite her earlobe as her legs start to tremble. Amanda cries out at the pain. Or maybe it’s the orgasm exploding through her. I continue rocking against her bare pussy while I cover her mouth with one hand, cutting off her voice as well as most of her breath. Amanda drags as much air in through her nose as she can, her eyes now begging me for a different type of relief. I rock my dick back and forth even though she is no longer trembling. I am close to coming, but this isn’t about me getting off. If it was, I’d have that bitch on her knees with my fat dick shoved down her throat. No, this is about showing Mrs. Perry what she is missing. I remove my hand from her mouth, and Amanda inhales deeply, gasping for precious air. When her breathing hastens, I snake my free hand into the top of her dress, grabbing her tit and squeezing. When I twist her nipple, she cries out from both pain and ecstasy.

  I kneel in front of her, placing one of her legs over my shoulder. Holding her dress out of the way, I bury my mouth between her legs, lapping at the juices that are seeping from her pussy. I offer no mercy as I suck and lick her sensitive clit, drawing her release out as long as I can. Once I’m satisfied I’ve tasted every drop of her sweetness, I stand and kiss her, letting her taste herself on my tongue.