Alive

by Janice L Wick

  He leaned back on the couch and she leaned into him and kissed him, then again. The red lipstick left its stamp, first on his cheek then on his jaw.

  “We could talk some more,” he said, with a dry voice. Her eyes smiled.

  He took off his t-shirt and tossed it aside on top of his jacket, he then lay his head back on the silk pillows, as his eyes stared at the ceiling as she leaned into him biting his ear.

  He picked up his shirt, and wiped the red lipstick from his chest with his hands; smearing it, but not completely removing it. He grabbed his jacket and started to leave the room, then turned back to look at her. Her sky-blue eyes watched his muscles through his t-shirt. She stood up with the blanket that was draped like a towel on the couch, and marched down the hallway which led into a bedroom. The blanket draped across her body dragged against the marble. He watched her for a second before he turned back to the door, and listened, her footsteps getting fainter.

  He combed his hair with his finger, and clicked the button and watched the two doors swing open.

  “Goodbye Miranda”.

  Seto walked out, the attendant not showing any sign of judgement he just opened the front doors for him and wished him well. Seto thought to himself- I wonder if he heard us, heard her moaning? He stopped himself, and buried the thought deep, trying not to relive the moment. Seto hopped on his horse and headed for the exit gate with the same thought in his head replaying, “Just another client . . . my last client.”

  Saturday

  New day, 5:30 a.m.

  The dew of early morning lie on the darkened windows of the building in front of them. The building was made of brown stone and was no higher than the ground level, but also included aluminum bleachers and a race track behind it, which were both below the building. The building was a motorcycle track that doubled as a motorcycle licensing building.

  “I thought you said this was a good investment. . . Man I'm out of here.” Seto snapped.

  “Were on time,” Slim said with a puzzled voice, as he checked his phone for the time.

  “Excuse me Mr. Black...”

  A shadowy figure came from around the corner, with a wobble to his walk.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” a sincere voice from a pudgy man in black starched pants and a clean pressed white collared shirt with the company logo on the left breast pocket.

  “Yea, let’s race!” screamed Ian.

  “You must be the owner,”

  “This place looks dope.” the pudgy man was glad to hear this.

  The gates opened and the five riders entered into a wide track with orange cones and barriers around the turns. He looked at the silver bleachers, which reflected the new sun.

  “The track is yours for the next 3 hours.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Now I’m guessing I don’t have to teach any of you how to ride,” he said looking over his glasses.

  “Maybe Seto,” Dura jarred.

  “But I must warn you about the scorpion’s tail, Now it has that nickname for a reason,” the pudgy man voiced, as the riders’ eyes fixated on him.

  “Yea it’s the last turn, and we’ve lost some riders to it, who wanted to test it,” he stopped and placed the keys in his pocket. When he started to speak again you could hear the keys jingle, “Try to be under 75 when you make that turn otherwise you won’t be able to bring your bike back up.” He walked away abruptly as soon as he finished his sentence, as if they should follow him to see what not to do.

  The riders looked at each other confirming what he said. However, all of their feelings of fear were swept away by the moment the first guy revved his engine, and nothing was left except a childlike joy.

  Seto started his bike, and ran his hands through his hair, then sat on it as it began to warm up. The other guys began chatting of track times.

  “Hey guys the last one to make it around has to buy lunch,” Seto said raising both hands in the air, simultaneously holding the peace sign with each hand. They all accepted the challenge and mounted their horses and pulled to the starting line.

  “On 3,”

  “1”

  “2,” they all took off at the same time. The sound of the engines sounded of a violent freight train.

  They rode not as racing at first, but as a one; shifting down and rounding the corners, staggering, giving each other room to breathe.

  The second lap was much more aggressive with overtakes. They rounded about the end for the last lap, Ian in the lead, then Slim, then Andrew, Seto, and in last Dura.

  They raced towards the turn. Ian was leading going in first to the turn, cautiously, downshifted too early and revved the bike. He began to wheelie, and squeezed the brakes, veering off course. The other four riders zipped pass, their helmets tucked inside their bikes. The next turn was the scorpion’s tail, a collective thought shared by all the riders. Bryant and Andrew slowed down and braced themselves for the turn.

  Seto noticed they were slowing, looking at his dash, it read 85, taking it into account, he continued on giving it some gas, with Dura behind him following. Seto took the inside corner at 96 mph, Dura followed his line and went in at 88mph. Seto leaned his bike to its limit, his kneepad scraping against the ground. He came out of the bin, leveled off his bike and finished first with Dura on his tail. The sun on their backs, “Woo hooo,” all the riders heard in their helmets.

  9:00 a.m.

  “Those were some nice runs.”

  The guys ordered, then set their helmets on the table and sat down. The sunlight beamed through the diner windows enlivening there smiles and unkempt helmet hair. The chill from a late winter and, early spring allowed the layer of gear bearable.

  “Yea that was a nice track.”

  “I'm just glad I'm not buying,” Dura voiced. Who was the rider who took the second place trophy; he wasn’t a cousin, nor brother, but a friend who seemed like family to all of the group.

  Seto sat with his track jacket open and his brown hair fell in front of his eyes. He hated sitting still, it was eating at him.

  “I don't ride as much as I used to, you can't really.” Ian said.

  “What do you mean?” Seto asked.

  “I mean you just don't have the time.” Ian said.

  “You mean . . . You . . . Don't have the time” Seto said, with an emphasis. The others sat quietly, as this was normal of lately.

  “Yea, that's what I said . . . Damn, why are you getting so offensive? “It was just some friendly riding.” Ian said.

  “Don’t be so uptight,” Slim said, teasingly.

  “You always got to win.” Ian said.

  “I’m a daily rider,” Seto said, braggingly. “So naturally I’m faster.”

  “Yea,” Dura said agreeing.

  “I don't know why I thought you guys could keep up,” he said, then grabbed his helmet and took one more sip of his chocolate shake before heading to the door with a smirk on his face as they collectively booed him.

  “I’ll see you guys’ later.” Seto jarred.

  He threw a 20 on the table, and you heard the door chime as he exited to the lot.

  One of the guys, nicknamed Slim followed him. Seto had known Slim in high school and he was the one friend who he stayed in contact with. Andrew and Ian were his cousins.

  Slim was a pretty mellow guy most of the time, and other times extremely pumped

  “Hey wait up,” Slim said.

  Seto push-started the bike and, turned toward Slim to give him a chance to speak.

  “Hey man, when we will see you again.”

  “Don't worry about me bro . . .” Seto said earnestly, “I'm bout go get high, you know where to find me.”

  “Dude you can't keep up like this. You’re going to turn your back on your family that's been here the whole time for you,” Slim said, as he pretended to cry.

  “You weren't there for me you were there for you. I'll see you guys soon.”

  Slim looked at his own, then Seto’s bike with his head tilted d
own. “Before you go let’s go on one last ride, not now but before you go.”

  “Yeap, I’d luv too . . . See you then.” Seto hopped on his bike, shifted into gear, and pulled off, as if he was running away from them, or even running towards something.

  Chapter 3

  Cut

  Same day

  10:30 a.m.

  The phone vibrated against the wooden table; playing a song of a symphony, ‘Beethoven 27th’. The sound of the ringtone echoed through the empty apartment.

  “Hello?” Seto answered the phone, placed it on speaker, and set it down next to him.

  “Yes, you’ve done well and I've gotten another request for you.”

  “I'm done jade . . . I'm moving, to Thailand they have beaches, sand, a place to relax,” he said with an opened heart.

  “Two of them and their near,” she voiced of a friend offering a job. Not of an employer who demanded a task.

  “No,” he said, as he laid in the middle of the carpet with his hand on his chest, the other to his side.

  “Are you sure? One said she would double the going rate and you have already met her.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” his voice grew colder.

  “I'm just doing my job. Should I find someone else Seto?”

  “Yes,” he said abruptly. “I'm going to tell my girl the truth.”

  “Well I will tell them you left the country. And you’re no longer with us. “When are you coming back . . . Where did you say u were going?”

  “The beach, Thailand . . . I don’t know when I plan on coming back. I’ll stay away as long as I need.” He said, these words as if he didn’t believe them yet. “Jade?”

  “Yes Hun.”

  “Who was it that wanted to pay double?” he said reluctantly, his mind thinking of her.

  “Aww, thinking of using that for a nice beach house?”

  “Stop torturing me,” he said.

  “But you know I love when you get mad.”

  “Yes I know,” he said, turning his head, and looked away as if they stood face to face.

  “The last client.”

  His heart skipped a beat. . . Then another. . .

  “Ms. Miranda of course.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Jade asked patiently.

  “I'll do it. . . Just her.”

  “Hmmmmm . . . Miranda?”

  “Yes Miranda. . . I'll see her.”

  “But this is my last one. My last time.”

  “Of Course love . . . Of course.”

  The phone hangs up. He stared at the glow from the screen, then closed his eyes.

  Same day

  6:00 p.m.

  “So I don't presume you’re married.”

  “Girlfriend. . . “Look are we going to do this or not?”

  “What’s the hurry?” she said with a tone of humor. Her remark was the answer to the thought of him belonging to another woman, which she assumed but didn’t want to be correct.

  “I'll take that as a yes, how long have you been together?” she said, rubbing the cover top on the bed, beckoning for him to sit.

  “A year now,” he said, looking down, not into her eyes.

  “You’re getting serious. I see.”

  “My husband hardly looks at me.”

  “He must be a fool,” Seto jarred, still avoiding eye contact as he looked over the city lights now.

  “So how did you find out about us anyway?”

  “From a friend.”

  “I never forget names.”

  “Oh you wouldn’t know her.”

  “You would be surprised, I’ve been all the way, lawyers, physicians even to the white house staff.” He said sternly.

  “I’ll tell you, it’s a funny story really. I was in the area and I dropped in on a friend . . . and as soon as I exit the elevator I turn and look towards her apartment and I see a nice hunk of meat, much like yourself leaving.”

  Seto was now looking back at her. She noticed she had his attention and paused and took a sip of her drink.

  “And when I finally get her to spill the beans . . . she says there was this agency. Now at first she tried to cover it up by saying he was a nephew, or distant cousin.”

  He took off his jacket and set it underneath the TV mounted on the wall behind him, and leaned back against the table.

  “That was when she put me in-touch with your lady and. . . I just knew I mean what can you say a women’s intuition.” She paused with an inquisitive look on her face. “So . . . what’s her name, this girlfriend of yours?”

  “Lise.”

  “Does she know what you’re doing now?”

  “I don't see where this is going,”

  Seto was now again looking at the city now and focused on one skyscraper specifically, the hundreds of clean blue windows. He had always loved buildings like this. A prime example of man’s brilliance. He walked over to the bed. “No, she doesn’t know what I do,” he said.

  “And,” she said, slowly, stretching out the word. “And you intend on telling her don't you.”

  He begun to speak, then stopped, “How did you?”

  “A women’s intuition,” she said gaily.

  “Yes, I'm telling her then we're leaving this country.”

  “Now you don't really believe that do you.”

  “Who are you to tell me how to . . . Some trophy wife who hasn't been touched in months?” She looked to the floor, her eyes were glued there. Her face showed no sign of emotion.

  “I . . . I didn't mean it like that.” He added.

  “No. No. It’s okay. . . Besides if he wasn't so boring, I wouldn't have met you,” she said with a new smirk. “Well I'm sorry to say, but this will be our last time ever seeing each other.”

  “Yes, it seems that way.”

  She leaned back and was now again calling for him to come closer. He was now leaned over her.

  “Off.” He said demandingly, pointing to her robe.

  She undid her robe, the strings fell limp to the side of the bed as she lay lazily on the bed, but aware of her body. The way her skin shined in the light. The way her hair fell to her shoulders. The way her eyes glared into his from underneath her bangs. He took his jacket off, and kissed her. He went to grab a bottle of champagne, took a sip and then sat it down. She leaned over and took a sip.

  “I'm going to have my way with you,” he said looking at her then turning back to the city for one last glance.

  He stepped in closer to her and squared his feet. She stepped in and said, “Like your girlfriend?” leaning her head onto his chest. While rubbing his sides all the way past his waist, and her hand clutched his dick. She could feel it erect and growing; this enlivened her. He picked her up and as her legs wrapped around his waist he kissed her against the wall, she bit his chin; feeling his tiny hairs on her teeth and tongue.

  “Miranda.” He said with a darker voice as he threw her on the bed. She lie there, looking into his eyes, he turned her onto her stomach,

  “I want you so bad right now,” she said. He was still. He stood at the edge of the bed and began pulling her closer to him; he had a thought- She is so soft. He pulled down his pants, put a finger inside of her, and tasted her. Then went in for a lick. She experienced a certain pleasure as she felt his tongue, then again. This time, “Mmm,” he then, grabbed her waist and entered her. She gasped openly and long.

  He thought- I'm enjoying this too much.

  She moaned, “Like you would Lise.”

  She knew just what buttons to push to turn this from a casual hook up to a violent sex. He went deeper and, placed his hand on her shoulder; their eyes catching through the mirror. He said, “Don’t talk about her,” as he was now entirely inside her.

  She half smiled then replied, “Oh . . . Oh Lise,” catching her breath. This angered him, she noticed the creases in his mouth tighten for a moment.

  His hands moved onto her waist now, his thumbs dug into her back as he began pounding.

/>   “Yes,” she moaned.

  “Wow she feels good,” he thought.

  A warm, darker pleasure formed from the bottom of her stomach, she dropped her head down to the bed and gave in.

  When he woke, he heard her in the shower, then picked up his pants and put them on in a hurried manner. The shower stopped. He found his black V-neck and picked it up, and underneath an envelope was there. She walked out the bath with a towel and asked, “Leaving already . . . Could you pass me that?” she said, gesturing towards her robe.

  He handed it to her and she let her towel fall to the ground as she grabbed the robe. “I see you’ve found it,” she said gaily.

  “What is it, 10, 20 grand?” His face showed no emotion.

  “Think of it as your retirement fund.”

  “I've already been paid.”

  “And this is extra for doing a super job,” she said mockingly.

  “I don't need it,” Seto said effortlessly. She walked over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “And neither does my dead husband,” she whispered in his ear. “Besides its just pocket change to me it's just the tip.” She smiled as she lit a cigarette. “Have fun on your trip.”

  He walked over to her, took a drag from her cigarette then flicked it onto the balcony. Then walked away, stuffing the money into his jacket. When he left she fell on the bed and laughed. She lay there for a moment lost in time, not knowing how many seconds, minutes or hours that had passed.

  7:00 p.m.

  He picked up his phone and called Lise; the call rang for a second then went to voicemail -No answer.

  He texted her,

  “Hey I can’t.

  Not today. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”