Going Down: An Erotic Tale of Murder

by Glenn, Roy

  Once I had had my fill of him sucking my pussy, I pushed his head away and rolled out of bed.

  “Where you going?” he asked frantically, as I walked out of the bedroom.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, and went to get my purse. I picked it up and took out a pill I had brought along for the occasion. I returned to the bedroom and got back in bed with him. I straddled his body, grabbed his dick, and slid it inside me. I began moved my body up and down on him and he grabbed my ass and began pumping it to me.

  When his eyes were closed and his mouth was open, I dropped the pill in and covered his mouth with my hand. Once he has swallowed it, I moved my hand away and began to fuck him harder.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry, it will make your dick harder for me,” I said, and slammed my body into his.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Zack

  I kissed Angelique good night and left the house on my way to pick up Chris. We were going to meet Tavarus at some club. Which isn’t unusual, we meet at spots all the time. What was different about this was that he was insistent that we get there no later than eleven o’clock. When I asked him why, he made up some bullshit answer and rushed me off the phone. Chris said he did him the same way.

  When I got to Chris’s house to pick him up, he had been smoking weed and drinking and said he wasn’t going, but wouldn’t say why. Now both of them are acting strange, I thought.

  “Look, man, this is obviously something important to Tee. So get your drunk ass up, take a quick shower, and let’s go.”

  “All right, all right,” Chris said, and got his drunk ass up.

  “Where’s the weed?”

  “In the cabinet over the refrigerator.”

  We got to the spot just as the band was coming on stage, and we both stood there with our mouths wide open when we saw our boy Tee walk out onstage with his horn. “You believe this shit?” I said to Chris.

  “No,” was all Chris could say.

  “I know he said he had picked up his horn again, but I didn’t know he was playing in a band.”

  “That’s why the nigga been acting all secretive and shit,” Chris said, and we found ourselves a seat as close to the stage as we could get. We finally got his attention when the first song began. You could see a smile come across his face when he saw that we had made it.

  “And you didn’t wanna come,” I said to Chris as the first song began.

  “Yeah, that woulda been so fucked up.”

  And it would have been, because Tavarus ripped the joint apart. You would think that me and Chris were at a football game or something, the way we were carrying on. It got so bad at one point, that security came and threatened to put us out if we didn’t tone it down.

  By that time, Chris had had two more drinks. “But that’s my boy up there,” he said, and got in the security guy’s face.

  “I don’t care who that is up there, keep it down or you gotta leave.”

  When the set was over and Tavarus came out of the dressing room, we were there to meet him. “Man, you turned this bitch out,” Chris said, and threw his arms around him.

  “Yeah, man, you really did. I didn’t know you could get down like that.”

  “This is what all that hiding and keeping secrets was about,” Chris said.

  “This is what I been doing every night,” Tavarus said.

  “So how long y’all been playing here?” I asked.

  “This is our first night, first gig playing together.”

  “Damn, it’s like y’all been at this for years.”

  “Thanks. You know when I came out onstage I was looking around for y’all, and I was like damn, them niggas ain’t show.”

  “We just got here when you saw us. One of us didn’t wanna come,” I said, and tipped my head toward Chris.

  “Yeah, that would be me.”

  “Well, I’m glad you changed your mind, or Zack changed it for you. It meant a lot to me to see y’all out there.”

  “Told you,” I said to Chris.

  We made our way back to our table and ordered another round of drinks. While we waited for the waitress to come back with our drinks, Tavarus was looking around the club.

  “I wanted to introduce y’all to somebody, but I don’t see her,” Tavarus said when I asked him who he was looking for.

  “The chick that got you playing again?” Chris asked.

  “Yeah, but I guess she had to go,” Tavarus said, as the waitress returned and put a drink in front of him.

  “And keep them coming,” Chris said, and dropped a fifty-dollar bill on her tray.

  After a few more rounds, Tee and I decided that Chris had had enough to drink. “Yo, I’m gonna take this nigga to the house,” I told Tavarus.

  “Thanks again for coming out,” Tavarus said and hugged us both. “Tonight wouldn’t have been the same without y’all being here to see it.”

  “If I didn’t see it, I wouldn’t believe it,” Chris said as he stumbled out of the club.

  “So when y’all going in the studio to cut that CD?”

  “We haven’t got that far yet,” Tavarus said, and we put Chris in the car.

  “It’s coming. Remember, you gotta have a dream if you wanna make a dream come true,” I told him.

  “Somebody told me that same thing earlier tonight.”

  “Believe that. Look, I’ll get with you tomorrow, Tee,” I said and got in the car.

  Chris was asleep by the time I drove off, and stayed that way until we got to his house. I woke him up and helped him out of the car. He said he was all right to walk. I watched him until he got inside, before I left.

  Angelique was asleep when I got home, but she woke up when I got in the bed with her. I told her about Tavarus’s musical debut. She seemed a little put out because I didn’t take her with me. I told her that I had no idea that was the reason he wanted us to meet him there. I promised that I would take her to see him the next night, and that seemed to satisfy her.

  We talked for a while and then Angelique curled up next me and said good night. I kissed her and made an attempt to make love to her. But this time when she rejected my advance, I decided that instead of letting her go to sleep, I would try to talk to her about it.

  “Because I don’t want to, Zack,” Angelique said and rolled over.

  “I know that, baby, but what I’m asking you is, why?”

  “I just told you—because I don’t want to.”

  “Come on, Angelique, but there has to be a reason why you don’t like making love to your husband.”

  We went back and forth about it like we usually do, and then I asked her the question that had been on my mind. “Is it that you like women?”

  “What?”

  “Do you like women?”

  “No, Zack, I don’t like women. I am not a lesbian. I love you, not woman. I don’t believe you had the nerve to ask me that.”

  “Then what is it? You say you love me, but you don’t like making love with me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like making love to you.”

  “You coulda fooled me, because sometimes it’s like it’s killing you to do it. And when you do, you don’t wanna try anything different. We do it the same way every time.”

  “Is that all this is about?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is it?” Angelique yelled.

  “I just wanna know why my wife doesn’t wanna make love to her husband!” I yelled back, and regretted it right away. We looked at each other for what seemed like a long time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

  “I sorry, too, Zack. It’s just hard for me, that’s all.”

  “But why, Angelique. I just need to know why.”

  Angelique rolled over and hugged her pillow. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes, baby. I need to know.”

  She turned around and looked at me. “I was molested by her stepfather,” Angelique said, and the tears
began rolling down her cheeks.

  “Oh my god.” I immediately feel bad for the things I was thinking and all the shit I was doing. “I’m sorry, baby. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

  “Why would I think less of you? It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know, and I’ve tried to convince myself of that for years. I’ve read a lot of self-help books for sexual abuse survivors. They all say that same thing: that it wasn’t my fault. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully accept that.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “Zack, I have never told anybody about what happened.”

  “Why not.”

  “I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my mother. We were doing bad those days after my real father died, she needed my stepfather around.”

  “You could have told somebody.”

  “He used to tell me if I told somebody that they would think I was lying and doing it for attention. And everybody liked him. So imagine me, this ten-year-old, little girl—”

  “You were ten when this happened?” I said louder than I should have, but hearing that made me mad.

  “Yes,” Angelique said meekly.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” I couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for her, being so young. “I just can’t believe that somebody could do that to a little girl, but it happens.”

  “Right. So, imagine me saying that about this person who everybody thinks so highly of, doing something so bad; but he did,” Angelique said, and began crying again. “He would beat me when I tried to resist him. Threatened to kill me if I told anyone. I believed him, so I didn’t tell anyone.”

  I took her in my arms and held her. “How long did this go on?”

  “Two years.”

  “What happened then?”

  “He started hitting my mother, so she divorced him. But by that time it was an everyday thing. It finally got to the point where I wouldn’t even fight him anymore, I would just let it happen.”

  “What about Connie?”

  “He never touched Connie, thank god. I always tried to protect her as best I could. When he started looking at her the way he looked at me, I’d send her to her room and he’d take me instead.”

  “What would he make you do?”

  “All the things you try to get me to do. Then, when he was done, he’d say that he loved me and that’s why he did it.”

  “I feel like shit, now.”

  “That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s how I felt, less than shit. When he was finished, I would run to the bathroom and wash myself. I would scrub myself until it felt like my skin was raw. I felt so dirty, like I was dirty.”

  “That wasn’t you.”

  “But that’s how I felt. How I still feel.”

  “You mean you felt that way when we did it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I have a huge fear of intimacy. I know that his abuse has had a huge impact on my relationships with men. And especially with you. You are the kindest, most understanding man I’ve ever met, and I love you so much for that.”

  “I love you, too. And we’ll get through this, I promise. We’ll get through this together.”

  “I know we will. I feel a lot better finally telling you. I’ve wanted to tell for so long, but I was afraid you’d stop loving me.”

  “I’ll never stop loving you. We’ll get some help for you to deal with this.”

  “No, Zack. You got to promise me that you’ll never tell anybody about this. We can’t talk about this. Please, Zack, promise me.”

  “No, Angelique, I can’t promise you that. And you have to talk to somebody who can help you talk about what happened to you. That’s the only way you’re gonna get past it, is to deal with it. You can’t hide from it anymore. You gotta let it out. You just said you feel better now that you told me.”

  “That’s you. I can’t talk about this with a complete stranger. It’s too hard.”

  “I’ll be with you every minute, baby.”

  We sat up for hours talking about what he did to her and how it made her feel. How she couldn’t believe that her mother didn’t know what was going on. Angelique became withdrawn and fearful. She would cry for no reason. Her mother never questioned why Angelique had an intense dislike for him and was afraid to be left alone with him.

  I always wondered, and could never understand why a man would do that to a child. How anybody could betray that trust children naturally have.

  I was glad that she was finally able to tell me about this. At that point, I felt closer to Angelique than I have at any time in our relationship. I thought about Tyhedra and Maritza and what I had done, and it was then that I realized that my dream wasn’t to have wild sex with two women, my dream was always to have wild sex with the woman that I was so in love with—my wife.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chris

  I didn’t know how I got down here, and at this point, it didn’t matter. The real question was how I was going to get up. I could figure out how I ended up in my empty bedroom, lying flat on my back, later.

  I tried to get up. Every time I raised my head it hurt, and the room started spinning. “Okay, bad idea.” Maybe if I could roll over, I could crawl over to the door and pull myself up by the doorknob.

  Slowly.

  I rolled myself over and started crawling. But what if the doorknob isn’t strong enough to support my weight. I looked around the room.

  “The window ledge.”

  It was close enough to the door that if one didn’t work, I could try the other. If all else failed, I’d crawl into my bedroom and pull myself up on the bed. I felt like such a fool down here on all fours. So drunk that I passed out in here. Which reminds me, what was I doing in here anyway? I had no idea. Finally, I made it to the window and pulled myself up.

  That wasn’t so bad. I leaned against the wall and looked out the window. I felt my head, there was a good size bump on the right side of my forehead.

  “Probably from hitting the floor.”

  A brilliant bit of deductive reasoning.

  Even though my head hurt, my legs seemed to be okay, so I made my way into my room and headed for the shower. I turned on the shower, got undressed, and got in. The water was cold, but I didn’t care. It would warm up soon enough.

  The cold water did me some good; it cleared my head. Now I remembered how I got in that room. I was thinking about what to do with that empty room. I thought about putting a home theater in there and went in to look around, when the phone rang.

  “That’s probably when the floor came up to meet my face.” I got a plastic bag and filled it with ice. It felt good. On my way back to the bedroom, the doorbell rang. I opened the door. “CJ?”

  “What happened to you?” I guess she noticed the bag of ice. “You are all right?”

  “It’s a long story, CJ. Come on in.”

  I let CJ in and went into the living room. CJ followed me in and sat down on the couch. “What happened to you?” she asked.

  I plopped down in my chair and turned on the lamp. I looked over at CJ. “Forget what happened to me. What happened to you?” Her eye was swollen almost to the point of being shut. Her bottom lip was swollen, too, and she had a bump like mine, only hers was on the left side. “Did Manny do that?”

  “Yeah, we got into it again.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “He needs help, Chris, not jail.”

  “Muthafucka needs to die.”

  “I know how you feel, Chris, and don’t think I didn’t think about killing his ass, but then I’d be no better than him. He has a problem and he needs help.”

  “That’s mighty white of you to feel like that.” I laughed
a little, but I didn’t mean to. “You want my ice bag? Looks like you need it more than I do.” She grabbed the bag out of my hand. CJ smiled. She has such a pretty smile, but not today. She could take that liberal attitude if she wanted to, but I was thinking about callin’ Zack and Tee and rollin’ by there. “So what set him off this time?”

  “You.”

  “What?”

  “It started over you.”

  “How?” A chill came over me to think that I was responsible for the beating she’d taken. “What did I do?”

  “Well, since you decided to disappear today, I was worried. I had been calling you all day; you didn’t call me back and that’s not like you. I knew something must be wrong. So when I got home Manny was drunk, as usual. I told him what was up and told him I was gonna ride by here to check on you. I told him he could ride if he wanted to. So he starts yelling, talkin’ ’bout I don’t need to be gettin’ all up in your business. And he’s gettin’ tired of hearing about Chris this and Chris that. He said I spend too much time with you, callin’ myself working, but he knows what’s going on. I told him that nothing was going on, that we are just working.”

  “That is all we’re doing and it ain’t even that often, anyway.”

  “I know that, but he doesn’t see it that way. He just knows what he knows. We kept going back and forth about the usual things we argue about—money, his drinking, and whatnot. Then he got back around to you.”

  “What now?”

  “He wanted to know if nothing was going on, then why was it so important for me to check on you.”

  “What’d you say to that?”

  “I was pissed off by then. I’m so tired of going through this with him, it isn’t even funny no more. So I yelled, ‘Because he’s my business partner! If something is wrong with him, I need to know about it!’”

  “You never told him?”

  “No. Because I knew this would happen. But I was on a roll. I told him that I invested my money in the company. He wants to know what money did I have, when we here struggling. I told him he was the reason we were struggling. And we went around and around about that, until I just got fed up with it. I told him I wanted a divorce.”