by O. L. Casper
P A R A D I S E
PART FOUR
by O. L. C A S P E R
Chapter 13
Sophia Durant’s Diary
October 16, Eleuthera Island, Bahamas
I stood fifty feet from Stafford and Ava in full disguise on the starboard side of the ferry. The weather was overcast, and I expected sheets of rain at any moment. I had one earbud in, listening to the audio from Stafford’s phone mic, but I couldn’t make anything out because of the loud noise of our surroundings. Stafford stood very close to Ava, both leaning on the railing, engrossed in animated discussion.
On landing at Dunmore Town Stafford and the woman got a taxi and I followed at a distance in another. They were dropped at a seafood restaurant in a pristine Victorian house on the sea. Since I could make out their conversation on the earbud, I decided to go for a stroll on the beach.
“You’re Brazilian?” said Stafford.
“Colombian. I’m from an old family in Bogota. But I never went to college. I was scouted for modeling when I was sixteen and I never looked back.”
“Your English is very good if you don’t mind my saying.”
“Thank you. I was tutored in English since a small child, and I spent a year in the U.S. during secondary school.”
“Lucky school.”
“I had a wild time.”
She laughed.
“Any lucky boys?”
“One. His name was Derek Davi. Italian, I think. We painted the town red as he liked to say.”
“I’ll bet. You’re a fiery wonder.”
“Explosive too. My temper is…”
She must have indicated something with her hands because she didn’t finish the sentence.
“Let’s hope I never make you mad,” he said.
“It also makes me a red hot, Latina lover,” she purred.
I thought people only talked like that in movies.
“What’s your full name? I want to look at your portfolio.”
“Ava Madeiros.”
She spelled it out for him.
“Good powerful name. I see you’re done with your plate. Would you like to go for a walk on the beach?”
“Sure.”
Hiding in some rocks above a small cove, I watched them walk out on the famous pink sand. There was no one in sight for as far as I could see down the beach. It was harder to hear them outside, but I could still make out most of it. They sat down next to each other in the sand. Ava put her head on his shoulder, and he lifted her chin for a kiss. Rage shot through me like an armor-piercing bullet. At the same time I couldn’t take my eyes away. Stafford stood up and took her by the hand, leading her into the small cove below me. I was somewhat surprised to see him undress her rapidly as she loosed his belt and lowered her hands into his pants. He helped her out and removed his jeans and underwear completely. His cock stood throbbing in the cool air. Ava removed the last of her clothes, revealing her lustrous, tanned body in all its glory. There was no foreplay whatsoever. So this was hot, Latin love.
They talked some but I couldn’t make it out as they were too close to the crashing waves. He was on his knees, and she bowed herself, pushing herself up from her hands and feet, face up, shorn pussy in the air. He licked her lower lips, fingered them, sucked her pussy and tongued it. He said something to her. Then he walked around to her face, took her hips and raised her upturned pussy to his face, arms wrapped around her lower back, as he ate her out and she licked his sack and his cock. After some moments he put her down on her back. He fondled her large breasts with one hand, fingering the dark nipples, while he stroked himself off with the other. He climaxed, busting a load all over her face. Apparently exhausted, he stretched out on the pink sand next to her. I’d seen enough and decided to turn back and catch the next ferry to the main island.
AVA: I was able to postpone my departure by a week.
MARK: Come to my party Saturday night.
AVA: I will. What should I wear?
MARK: Dress casual. It’s going to be mostly business associates.
AVA: See you then.
MARK: If not before.
So ran a string of texts I retrieved in Minerva that night. I was writhing with anger. I had to put an end to this. Or did I? She was leaving soon, but that was no bar to what Stafford might do to stay in contact with her. How did Isabella put up with this? Did she know anything? As my thoughts ran in this groove I caught a glint of something out of the corner of my eye.
I looked up at the window whence the image came. It was gone almost as soon as I looked. It was a reflection of Isabella Gardner standing in the room behind me. I was terrified to my very bones. Overwhelming chills coursed the length of my spine. I was dizzy and I sat down to regain compose.
A tap-tap came at the door. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. More chills coursed down my back. I stood slowly, half-expecting to see an apparition the other side of the door, and walked forward.
“Who is it?” I called out, thinking it would ease the tension.
“Mark,” came the muffled voice through the door.
I opened the door. Stafford stood smiling.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“It’s more concern than anything else.”
“Thank you,” I said glumly, walking back in and sitting on the bed.
“What’s the matter?”
His voice was exceedingly kind and he did not come in.
“May I…?” he asked, stepping forward.
“Of course.”
“What’s the matter, gorgeous girl?”
“I’m tired. Not sleeping well. Like you said.”
“I’m sorry to see that. Anything you want to talk about?”
“Nothing. Just a whirlwind of feelings, a torrent of guilt.”
“About what?”
“Nothing in particular. Life.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s a lady thing, I suppose.”
This was a poor excuse. He saw right through it.
“If there’s anything I can do.”
“You’re fine. You’ve done incredible things for me already. I have an unbelievable life with you. I went from being abjectly poor to living in mansions. I’m not rich, but I have all the accoutrements of wealth. I don’t need to be rich. I’m too guilty already.”
“Live without guilt. Like I do.”
“How do you do it?”
“There may not be a tomorrow. I think of that every day and I live accordingly.”
“Like Frank Costello in The Departed.”
“I haven’t seen that movie.”
“It’s a cool flick.”
“Look—Sophia, if you’re going to die one day, and one day we all will, then one of these days is obviously the day before our last. As we pass into nothingness, or even if we carry on as spirits, life as we know it is done and so is everything that went with it. Therefore cultivate a sense of detachment and live without guilt. Besides…you haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”
“You’re right. I don’t believe…I have.”
I stumbled over the last part and swallowed. I thought about the death of Emma Green as I said it, and what I wanted to do, and probably would do, to Ava Madeiros. The stupid cunt. In moments like this I used to think about the why of the matter, but I no longer did. I only considered the action. I felt bad after what happened to Emma. Especially since it had been so sloppy in the execution. But I thought I wouldn’t feel bad about Madeiros. I was an experienced killer now. Strangely
though I did feel guilty over Isabella’s death. It was not my fault. But I had wished for it at one point.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’ve done for me so far. Some of it has been risky. I’ve decided, at perhaps a personal risk to me—perhaps not—to bring you closer. To bring you into the fold. Make you an insider. I’ve used a friend in government to provide an extensive background check on you. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
I wondered where this was going.
“Normally you need the individual’s consent to do so, but…”
“You found a way around it,” I interjected.
“Yes…and you came up stellar, squeaky clean.”
“Good. Did they interview my family?”
“No, I asked them not to. But they did interview friends, school teachers, past neighbors, and so on.”
“I’m glad I passed.”
I feigned a smile.
“You did. With flying colors.”
“Do I get a top secret clearance?” I joked.
“Even better. You will now, gradually, enter my inner circle. You mentioned before not being rich. Play your cards right and you just may get wealthy beyond your wildest dreams.”
Fleeting visions passed of playing in the sand in the Cayman Islands at sunset with Julie. It was a nice thought, but I wanted him more.
“It would be nice.”
“I think you’re brilliant. Exceptionally so. Sophia, you may be a genius. But I’m not one, so I wouldn’t know.”
“You’re pretty smart.”
“Only just.”
He smiled that devilish smile. I began to wonder whether he had a compact with the devil. I never believed in evil before, but now I began to wonder. If there was evil, I had definitely partaken in it.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Just shaking off sleep.” I lied.
“I’ll let you get to it.”
“No, don’t go.”
I said it in a way that expressed longing.
“Then I’ll stay. I need a shower. Mind if I use yours?”
“Actually it’s yours. I’ll join you.”
I take one glance at his muscular body with the water passing down. I step in. He turns. We kiss. First, only lightly on the lips. Then he moves his lips down my chin, along my neck and to my breasts. He kisses them tenderly as the water hits them, massaging them and coursing down my body to my stimulated pussy. He cups my breasts, plays with them, tongues them, sucks them. I think he’s got a breast-obsession but I don’t mind. It’s what I want. They’ve longed for this attention since this afternoon when I saw him with Madeiros. She has such a cool sounding name. For a second I feel solidarity with her as one of the handful of beautiful women that get to enjoy this. My insane jealousy evaporates with his touch. He presses my breasts to either side of his face and runs his tongue through the cleavage and round the edges. Goosebumps break out across my breasts and spread across my entire body. Noticing this, he touches along the inner thigh, on one side then the other. Teasingly he touches everywhere but the stimulated spot, exponentially increasing the stimulation in not doing so. In a series of fluid movements I let go all expectation and just enjoy each moment for what it is.
His tongue runs down my stomach, passed the belly button, to the place just above my lips. I place my hands on his masculine shoulders as he does. I stroke his wet hair with one hand. He takes my arms and pulls me down into a crouching position. Shit, I didn’t want to distract him; he was doing such a nice job. This is some of the best foreplay I’ve ever had. Putting his hands on my head, he stands up. He places his throbbing erection between my breasts and cups my heaving chest with either hand, pressing them together to either side of his glistening, pulsating cock. Damn, this feels good. He fucks my tits. As he does, I clutch his bulbous buttocks, feeling the bulbous head of his cock hitting the dip at the base of my throat. Before I know it the silvery fluid explodes from the tip of his shaft all over my chin and face, but he keeps going. His stamina is one of the best things about him. I rinse my face in the shower and he moves up to my face, kissing me. I grab his member in both hands and stroke gently, then hard. I crouch to the level of his beautiful manhood and put the head in my mouth, licking the tip profusely. I glance up at him. Eyes are closed, he takes in the sensation. One of his legs begins to twitch, the pleasure must be monumental. I’m ecstatic I can do this for him. He moans.
He releases a second time; I swallow, careful to get it all. Cock still hard, I take it out and stroke it. I stand up and look at him. Our eyes overflow with what I think is love. I put one foot up on a ledge that’s a few feet up the wall of the shower. I take the water from the shower in one hand and rub it all over my pussy. I take cock and slip it in. Pure ecstasy as I ride it slow and then bounce on it.
I blocked my IP address, and almost all other means of detecting my presence by a third party before I began to research poisons. I landed on some articles about a substance called polonium-210. It’s first publicly acknowledged use was in the 2006 Alexander Litvinenko case in London. He had sought and won political asylum in England and joined forces with MI5 and MI6 against Putin and the Russian state. Shortly thereafter he died from poisoning. It was discovered on autopsy that he had been poisoned by polonium-210, an element that gives off radiation. He was called the first victim of “nuclear terrorism.” I went to a black market version of eBay where terrorists and other criminals traded weapons, drugs and anything else that happened to be illicit. The FBI had recently cracked down on a few of these sites, but so far they had not found this one. It was called Balthazar’s Skull Bazaar—whatever that meant. Ten micrograms, which was the amount found in Litvinenko’s system (apparently administered in tea), is 200 times the median lethal dose. That amount was going for $1999.99. I connected to my network of hacker friends—the 26 Club—and asked my most frequent correspondent if he had any information about fake PayPal accounts. Not only did he, but he hooked me up.
DragonAir27: You can transfer the money to me in the light, and I’ll pay the account you want (in the dark).
In the 26 Club, I go by is Octavia6.
Octavia6: Thx. I’ll put the money through tonight. The link is…
I copied the link to Balthazar’s Skull Bazaar into the message and clicked send. Once I have the poison in my possession I’ll divvy it up and perhaps save some for future uses. I also ordered two lab coats and disposable gloves.
I’d never seen the Eleutheran villa so luminous or with so many visitors. What usually seemed a ghost town now looked like Times Square at Christmas. I spotted Ava Madeiros early in the evening. She was standing at the center of a large group talking to several men. She would be hard to get to. I stood on a second story balcony overlooking the party with Anna. She was high and therefore our conversation was nearly nonexistent. I had opted not to smoke with her on account of the focus my mission required. I admired Ava from afar, imagining different ways I might get to her. I wore dress gloves over disposable rubber ones. A small vial containing half the polonium-210 I had bought was in my pocket.
Ava was graceful in a crowd, obviously used to being the center of attention, she conversed easily with a number of different men. Anna had informed me Stafford threw the party as a backdrop to one of his high level meetings, and he didn’t make an appearance till late into the evening. I would listen to the contents of his meeting later, but now I was concentrating on the objective at hand.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Anna had caught my gaze.
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
“Her name’s Ava Madeiros. She’s a model.”
“You’ve met her.”
“Not really.”
“I see.”
There was a knowing gleam in Anna’s eyes.
“She’s something Stafford collected on the beach one day,” I explained.
“Looks like his type.”
“What is
n’t his type?”
“True.”
She lowered her voice.
“Let me tell you a little secret. Stafford is a man with an endless supply of dough. And following that endless supply is an endless supply of women.”
“It’s something I’ve come to accept.”
“Here’s the secret: he may have cock enough for many, but he has a heart for only one. You’re the one in his sights. You don’t have anything to worry about with her or probably anybody else.”
“How do you know that?”
“Trust me, I know.”
That gleam was in her eyes again.
“It’s all in the eyes,” she said as she looked at Ava. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Isn’t she?”
“Would you fuck her?”
I laughed.
“That was bold.”
“Then the answer is yes.”
“Okay. It is. I would.”
“I would fuck her brains out.”
I laughed.
“Let’s go talk to her.”
“I’m too shy.”
“Come on.”
“Oh, alright. But I need a drink first.”
“Let’s get some wine. Then we’ll go see her.”
My heart began to pound as we neared her with our glasses. The wine was a rich Syrah. I only had a sip but felt tipsy already. I resolved that if conditions weren’t perfect, I would wait till another occasion to administer the contents of the vial. It wouldn’t hurt anything to wait. Far less so than to do it incorrectly now. The chemical was so dangerous I felt it didn’t leave any room for error.
I cast my bait.
“Good evening. I feel like I’ve seen you before somewhere. It’s the oddest feeling. I’m not quite sure.”
She took it.
“You’ve probably seen me in the magazines or billboards or on TV. I’m a model.”
“Oh. That must be it. How embarrassing?”
“Not at all.”
She smiled. She was graceful and kind and I felt bad for what I was about to do to her. For a moment I wavered on whether or not I would do it. I wasn’t mad at her anymore, if I ever was—only slightly jealous. But then I was overcome by a feeling, a sort of compelling inner need, telling me I must do it. Almost forcing me to. Even if only just for the thrill.
