Kill Tone

by Lance Winkless

  Veronica lets out a squeal when he reaches her limit.

  “Fuck me, fuck me hard!” Veronica tells him. Jack, kisses her deeply, tasting her own juice on her tongue and then his hips pull back and he does start to fuck her, as hard as he can. Veronica gasps as she comes again, digging her nails into his back, her pussy gushing all over his hardness. She calms for a moment and Jack gathers himself again, but he knows he is close and he will come the next time she does.

  “Are you ready?” she asks Jack. “I want you to come with me this time, start slowly, understand?”

  Jack nods, he likes being told what to do for a change and he is relieved to hear her say it, desperate to give her his seed, aching to release himself. He starts to fuck her again slowly, making sure the tip of his cock touches her soft limits every time he slides into her and she moans every time it does. Gradually, Jack builds up speed as he feels his orgasm rising until he is fucking her so hard her head bangs against the headboard. Veronica’s gorgeous eyes roll as she climaxes. This time, only whimpers escape her lips and then Jack comes hard, as deep inside her as he can reach. Jack strains as he pushes the last of his cum into Veronica, whose face is contorted and flushed red.

  As soon as Jack’s climax passes, his hangover returns with a vengeance. Blood pumps back from his cock and throbs into his brain making him believe his head is going to explode. His head spins as his heart races and he collapses onto the bed next to Veronica, drenched in sweat, gasping for breath and worried he might have a heart attack.

  Jack’s straining lungs struggle to satisfy his need for oxygen, barely able to suck enough air through his gaping mouth. Blood pumps hard into his head as small dots of light cross his vision and he sees stars. Thankfully, the painkillers have taken some effect and there is only a small ache pounding in his head to accompany the pumping blood.

  Without saying a word, Veronica rises off the bed and goes into the bathroom, her full round buttocks wobbling as she goes; it doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “Are you okay? I haven’t finished you off, have I?” Veronica asks him with concern in her voice as she emerges from the bathroom.

  “I’ll be alright in a minute, just need to get my breath back,” Jack answers her heavily.

  “Okay. That was nice, but I’m tired out, I’m going back to sleep.” Veronica says, returning to her side of the bed.

  Jack doesn’t answer, leaving her to lie back down to sleep, which he plans to do himself as soon as he’s had a drink of water. Veronica is already back on her side, breathing slowly as Jack debates whether to turn the bathroom light off. In the end, he leaves it on and turns over, using the light again to let his eyes wonder over Veronica’s curves. Jack feels his loins stirring back to life already as he looks down Veronica’s back and sees her rounded bum.

  This is no good, Jack says to himself. I’ve got to get some sleep. I’m going to need my wits about me later when the deal goes down.

  Jack hauls himself out of bed once more, his semi-hard dick swinging from side to side as he reaches into the bathroom to turn off the light. Getting back into bed, he purposefully faces away from Veronica so that his eyes aren’t tempted again by her flesh, even in the darkness. He closes his eyes and tries to think about something else, anything else other than her. He has to sleep. Finally, sleep does come to Jack, and even then, the last thought he has is of fucking Veronica when he wakes.

  Chapter 2

  Distant voices and the chirping of birds from the day outside entering through the open bedroom window entwine into Jack’s dream as he starts to wake from his comatosed sleep. The slam of a car door and its engine firing up, rouse him still further. What he was dreaming about escapes him as consciousness returns. Whatever it was, it must have been good judging by his morning glory, but as much as he tries, he can’t conjure the memory of the dream back.

  Jack’s head is heavy, his mouth bone dry again and his nose has about two tons of rubble blocking it. He is definitely in for a serious dose of the proverbial Columbian flu today. Under normal circumstances, he would find his phone, order a take-way of some description and wallow in his hangover until a knock on the door told him his recovery meal had arrived. He has things to do today though, the first of which is to try his luck with Veronica, his mind writhing with fantasies of what he means to do to her as he lies on his bed, about to open his eyes.

  Jack’s eyes open as he turns over, anxious to get his first look at her stunning body. The bed beside him is empty, his immediate disappointment is replaced by the hope that she is in the bathroom. He turns to it. An open door with darkness beyond it tells him that she is not in there either. Jack’s head drops straight down back onto his pillow in despair, his right arm coming up across his eyes as he realises she has crept out whilst he slept, along with his plans for her. Suddenly, his hangover closes in on him, tiredness and an aching head worsening as he considers what he has arranged in a few hours. Fear bites into him, not all of which can be blamed on post-cocaine paranoia, not today at least.

  Time passes and Jack doesn’t move; ten minutes, twenty minutes, he doesn’t know in the darkness beneath his arm. He wishes that he could cancel his plans and stay in bed, watch TV, feed his recovery and jerk off. That isn’t an option this time, since his plans aren’t as simple as meeting friends for more drinks and more debauchery.

  Buzzing sounds from his left and his phone ringing pulls him out of his stupor. The sound gives him a feeling of both relief and trepidation. Relief that he hasn’t lost his phone again, but trepidation over who is calling him. Pulling his arm down from across his face and rolling onto his side, he eventually finds the phone on the floor in between his bedside cabinet and the bed.

  Jenny, his ex-girlfriend’s name, is illuminated on the phone screen. He lets it ring out. He can’t be dealing with her now or talking to his daughter; he isn’t sure he can actually speak anyway, his tongue is so stiff. He will call back later when he is further along in his recovery. As tempting as it is, he doesn’t lie back down, instead, he forces himself to get up and head to the shower.

  When Jack finally emerges from the shower, the brightness of his bedroom is starting to fade as evening starts to descend. Another day lost to his demons, he thinks, guilt ridden. His determination to turn his life around is real, yet he just keeps failing. He failed Jenny, who could take no more and threw him out over twelve months ago, and at the moment he is failing his beloved daughter terribly, every day of her young life. Jack’s biggest problem is that he just doesn’t have the inclination to work nine to five for some tosser who thinks paying peanuts makes them king of the jungle. Fuck that, Jack has his own ideas and plans and tonight is when he starts putting them into action. By this time next week, he intends to have the capital that will set him up in his own legitimate business. He is prepared to take the risk, to do anything to leave his demons behind and be able to offer his daughter the life he has never had.

  Jack, feeling more with it after his long shower, picks up his phone and sends a text to his associate in tonight’s endeavour, Daryl. ‘We still on for tonight, meet at Molly’s bar at 8?’ After Jack clicks send on the text, he bites the bullet and phones Jenny back, half hoping she doesn’t answer but his bad luck holds.

  “Finally. Out all night again, Jack? Have you just woken up?” she asks calmly but with a pissed-off undertone.

  “Sorry I couldn’t take your call, I was on some business,” Jack lies. “Is everything okay?” It’s a question he regrets asking as soon as it escapes his mouth.

  “No Jack, everything isn’t okay, but I don’t want to argue. When can I expect some money from you? Your daughter needs things.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I have something in the pipeline and I will be able to give you all the money I owe you next week, can you hold on until then?”

  “You seem to find the money for your all-night benders Jack, and I’ve heard it all before. You sound as rough as arseholes, I know the sound well, so please don’t deny it.” Jenn
y is starting to get wound up and Jack can’t blame her.

  “I’m just getting over a cold,” he lies again. “I don’t have any money right now but I will sort it next week, I promise.”

  “I’ve heard that before also. You have until next Friday and if I don’t see any money off you, I will take you back to court. I won’t have a choice.”

  “Next Friday it is, and I won’t let you down this time, Jenny. How is Sophie?”

  “If you want to know how your daughter is, I suggest you make the effort to see her Jack. I’ve got to go, don’t let me down.” Jack’s phone goes dead before he has a chance to reply.

  Jack starts to feel the pressure of his hangover threatening to return as he takes the phone away from his ear. Jenny’s parents are well off and they would never let her or Sophie go without anything they need, and Jack relied on that all the time he and Jenny were together. He was always making plans or chasing the next big thing which never materialised. Jenny had been patient at the start, encouraging and supportive even, but everything changed when Sophie arrived. She gave up her career, wanted to be a mother to their new child and it was time for him to step up. He found a temporary job which he hated, while he searched for something he could do for himself and his family to make a living. The temporary job extended into just his regular job as life and bills took over his dreams. Then he started drinking and it all went downhill from there.

  Think of something else, Jack tells himself as a cloud starts to descend over him, trying to pull him down. He is grateful when his attention is drawn to his phone that vibrates in his hand. It’s Daryl, confirming their arrangements to meet later. Jack sends a thumbs-up back to him and checks the time on his phone.

  Molly’s bar is in the city and he has over a couple of hours to kill before he is due to meet Daryl. Jack decides to get dressed and catch the subway into the city early, to find something to pacify his rumbling stomach before he meets Daryl. He won’t be sorry to leave this godforsaken apartment and get some fresh air either. He reminisces about the events of last night while he dresses, the parts he can remember anyway. Actually, he reminisces about Veronica.

  By the time he is dressed and ready to go, his mind has moved onto wondering if he will ever see Veronica again. She left before he had a chance to take her number; maybe that is why she crept out, maybe one night with him was enough? As much as he tries, he can’t for the life of him remember where he met her. It must have been in one of the numerous bars he frequented on his drunken travels last night.

  Before he leaves, he pulls the bedroom window closed, cutting off any chance of a cool room to sleep in later when he returns. Leaving the window open is not an option in this neighbourhood unless he wants his meagre possessions to vanish while he is out. In fact, he pulls the curtains closed too, as added security.

  Jack’s front door looks over a small green space two floors below and behind some railings. The sound of young children playing on the grass echoes up to him as he double-checks the door is locked and then makes his way to the two flights of stairs that will take him out of the apartment block. He sees that it is the same children as always running around on the grass. Too young to be out of their parents’ sight, they are allowed time to play in the enclosed area, like inmates having their exercise in a prison yard. Jack takes little notice of them as he goes, but he does shut the gate behind himself so that the inmates don’t escape as he steps onto the street.

  A cooler breeze blows up the road, refreshing Jack as he walks. The sun has also dipped behind the buildings, bringing the temperature down further. He hasn’t seen the sun today, which to be honest isn’t unusual for Jack; sometimes, he thinks he is turning into a vampire.

  The subway is close, and he is soon speeding along toward the city, only a few stops away. The heat of the day has somehow penetrated down into the depths of the tunnels under the street, something that Jack struggles to figure out. Even in the thin material of his dark patterned Ralph Lauren shirt on which he has rolled the sleeves up, he is hot and can feel the alcohol from last night starting to seep out of his skin. He checks his Omega watch; plenty of time. Enough time to ponder the hypocrisy of wearing such an expensive watch and then living in a shithole. He doesn’t feel guilty about it though, just because his living arrangements have gone downhill lately doesn’t mean he shouldn’t take pride in his appearance. He wonders whether it was his glowing personality and good looks or his meticulous dress sense that had tipped the balance with Veronica? Or maybe she was just off her head and he was in the right place at the right time? She must have thought she was tripping when they got back to his place last night. What she must have thought when she woke up in his hovel, God only knew. Was that the reason she had vanished when he woke?

  What he would give to spend the night with her sober! The fun they could have! He desperately hopes he gets that chance. Perhaps he will bump into her again and perhaps she will tell him to fuck off after seeing his apartment?

  Jack, thankfully, exits the subway not a moment too soon and fills his lungs with air that hasn’t travelled through varied machines and hot ducting to reach him. He can still feel sweat on his body as he walks, however, looking for somewhere to eat. A bar that does food would be an idea; one beer with his meal won’t do any harm and will help take the edge off the remnants of his hangover which is still lurking around. It doesn’t take long to come across such a place and he goes in, despite his concerns over the cost. Bars nestled in between or in the foot of a skyscraper are never cheap, but he hasn’t the energy to walk to find another type of establishment that will meet his requirements, for both food and alcohol.

  Another added bonus of these trendy bars is that they are always airconditioned and Jack welcomes the initial chill as he enters. The bar is relatively quiet; most of the city workers must have decided to head straight home after work. Wednesdays are not the best night for drinking and mingling, something that Jack can vouch for. He checks out a lone woman seated at the bar as he picks a table to sit at, paying particular attention to her bare legs. She turns her head to reciprocate as he moves. Jack finds himself comparing her to Veronica as he goes to sit at a table with a good view of the businesswoman, her stilettos and sculptured legs pointing in his direction. The woman isn’t a patch on Veronica but that doesn’t stop Jack’s hangover horn causing a stirring in his lap.

  The waiter takes Jack’s order and eventually brings over a tall glass of a foreign beer that he is yearning to taste. The ice-cold beer goes down like nectar, its bubbles helping to descale his mouth. When Jack puts the glass down on the table, he finds that unfortunately, it is nearly half-empty already and he promises himself to make it last throughout his meal. Taking only one more sip while he waits for his food, Jack’s mind wanders between how things are going to play out later tonight and running his hand up the leg of the woman sitting at the bar. He isn’t the only one wondering about that either, judging by the number of times the woman has looked down over her shoulder at him.

  By the time his food does arrive, which is longer than he had hoped, his beer is very low. Despite wanting to keep his wits about him for later, Jack orders another small beer from the waiter who places his food in front of him.

  The food disappears almost as quickly as Jack’s beer, which has settled his stomach nicely ready for the food. Jack puts cash onto the table and gets up to use the men’s before he leaves. As he turns in the direction of the men’s in the back of the bar, the woman almost jumps down from her chair and starts walking in the same direction. Jack suspects what is going on as he follows the woman’s swaying buttocks and beautifully defined calf muscles, her stilettos clicking down the bar and into a narrow corridor where both the men’s and ladies are situated. Jack enjoys the view but controls himself; he has business to take care of after all. As the woman passes the men’s door, she glances over her shoulder before her hands reach down to the bottom of her skirt, which she pulls up to her waist. Jack’s eyes almost pop out of their soc
kets at the sight of her long legs and thighs that lead up to her well-toned ass which only has the slender material of a thong covering—well, covering nothing. Jack is stopped in his tracks, flabbergasted and bulging outside the men’s door as the woman carries on her walk, each click of her stilettos deliberate and totally erotic. All too soon, the woman reaches the entrance to the ladies and Jack fears the show is about to end. But as she turns to the side and starts to push the door open, she stops, looks in Jack’s direction and says, ‘Are you coming?’ Jack doesn’t need asking twice.

  Less than ten minutes later, he emerges from the ladies’ panting heavily and readjusting his clothes. He struggles to understand what is going on; he has barely had a sniff of a woman since he was forced to move out by Jenny over a year ago, and now they are throwing themselves at him. He has to admit to himself that he has morphed into different people since the spilt.

  At the start of his new single life, his head and emotions were all over the place; he missed his small family and took to drinking more heavily than ever. He had become a virtual drunk, in fact, nearly turning into a wino that you sometimes saw on the street, pottering around. Only a conversation with his young daughter, Sophie had stopped him falling over that cliff. That conversation made him pull back from the brink and stop the constant heavy drinking. He still drinks but now he does it to have a good time and not to try and forget. Following his drunken phase, he is embarrassed to remember, he became a bit of a letch, trying to ‘pull’ virtually any woman who crossed his path. Thankfully, that phase didn’t last long, mainly because of his awful success rate.

  Nowadays, he is trying to turn his life around. He doesn’t go out drinking more than once or twice a week and even then he doesn’t drink to excess, normally. His bank balance won’t allow it, for one. He now goes out to have a good time, meet up with friends and make new ones, so perhaps a woman’s intuition senses that?