METROCAFE

by Peter Parkin

  Now there was just the two of them—down from the four close friends who had taken a risk years ago to execute a leveraged buyout of a company that needed their creativity and expertise. They had provided those talents and the company was very strong now as a result, and they were very rich. There was nothing more for the two of them to do, and the prospects of continuing on without Gerry and Jim didn't sit well with them. If they hadn't been fired, they probably would have just quit.

  Mike had suggested that they meet at the MetroCafe today, a suggestion that Troy thought was a little bit crazy. "Why would you want to do that?" he had asked. Mike replied, "Closure, Troy. That little restaurant was the turning point, where a bad situation turned a corner and turned disastrous. I want to have lunch at that same table on that same outside patio where Samson held a gun pointed at my crotch. I want to remember how that bastard finally lost his vendetta against me."

  As Mike wound his way through traffic, he reflected on the investigations over the last six months. The FBI took Omar into custody at Miami International immediately after Mike landed the plane. But the killer certainly wasn't a flight risk—he could no longer see a thing, not even a single ray of light.

  The FBI also searched the jet and made an interesting discovery—or rather a nondiscovery. No other parachute packs had been found, which meant that Samson had intended all along that Omar would go down with the plane. He was the sacrificial lamb, the incredibly hot and hunted sacrificial lamb, to be offered up drowned and shattered on a silver platter. Whether or not Mike and his friends had stormed the plane, Samson never intended the jet to make it to Panama. It was obviously the plan all along that it would be scuttled in the Gulf of Mexico along with the hapless Omar.

  After a few days of interrogation by the FBI and CIA, Omar was returned to Canada where the RCMP took over. Under threats of being sent to Israel or Guantanamo Bay for questioning, the coward began to sing. And the Canadian and U.S. authorities loved the tune he was singing. In fact it didn't take much to make him sing once they disclosed to him that Samson had not brought an extra parachute onto the plane for him. So—in the name of Allah of course—he told them everything that he knew about the banker network "throughout North America." He had apparently done covert work for each network over the last few years, so he was more intimate with them than the typical suicide bomber would have been.

  Arrests were made swiftly before they too had the opportunity to run. Billions of dollars in assets that hadn't yet moved to Panama or the Middle East were frozen. It was heralded as the largest terrorist network takedown in history.

  As for Samson, there was no sign of him anywhere. He and his pilots had literally disappeared 'into thin air,'—more accurately described as the humid, putrid, petroleum-polluted air over the Gulf of Mexico. Once Mike told the FBI about the GPS device that he had seen on Samson's wrist, they were convinced that a boat, trawler, or even a submarine had been waiting down below at prearranged coordinates.

  Interpol had issued arrest warrants within every country on the globe that agreed to cooperate. David Samson, AKA Dawud Zamir, was the current 'most wanted man in the world,' taking over the honor from Omar, his protégé.

  *****

  "So, Mike, how does it feel to be sitting here at this little restaurant again? Must be a bit weird for you, eh?"

  Mike leaned in, elbows on the table, chin resting on his clenched fists. "Weird, for sure, but also a bit victorious. I'm here—he's not. I'm sitting at the same table on the same patio where he gained control over me. That was the day that I was supposed to take control over him, as you'll recall. As with everything, he was one step ahead."

  They paused their conversation while the waiter served their smoked salmon and cream cheese on bagels. Mike took a long sip of beer out of his frosty mug and gazed out past the wrought iron fence to the street where people were peacefully strolling on this particularly warm spring day.

  Troy raised his head up from his plate and stared at his friend. He didn't say anything. Mike stared back, intrigued. "What are you thinking, Troy? You have a very heavy look in your eyes."

  "Do you ever think about Jim?"

  Mike lowered his eyes. "All the time. In at least one dream a week, or more like one nightmare a week. I'm looking into his eyes, he's smiling, our fingers touch, and then all I see are the fingers of his other hand slipping off the rung. His body falling in slow motion, hand still reaching out to me in desperation. But, funny thing, he's still smiling even as he's falling. Same dream every time."

  "We'll never forget that day, Mike. I can't believe Jim is gone. I'd just gotten used to the idea of Gerry being out of our lives, but now Jim. God, it's so sad. We'd all been together so long, been through so much over the years. We were inseparable. Don't die on me, Mike. Please."

  Mike reached over the table and grabbed Troy's hand, squeezing it hard. "We'll be okay, buddy."

  Troy licked the cream cheese off his fingers, and quickly changed the subject. "Mike, the food at this restaurant is excellent. Despite the sordid little history we and Gerry have with this place, I'm going to recommend it to everyone I know." Mike noticed there were tears in his eyes. A big, tough guy like Troy didn't like to show emotions, especially those of the teary kind. But Mike knew he had always had the biggest heart of all four of them.

  "It's nice sitting here with you, Troy. It's peaceful here now. This is the same table, the same spot where months ago there was a gun pointed at my balls. It's still hard to believe. This gives me a little bit of closure, believe it or not. Sitting here at Samson's place, MetroCafe, and feeling safe. I feel like I've invaded and taken over his turf."

  Troy shook his head. "I'm still astonished at how you took control and flew that damn jet. We were in such trouble, I thought we were goners, and you just took over and landed that big sucker. How the fuck did you do that? Well, I know what happened in your brain of course, but still—how the fuck did you do that?"

  Mike cracked his knuckles. "It's the same old puzzle, Troy. I still don't really understand it, but I embrace it now. I accept it. I was indeed aware of what I was doing in that plane, but didn't know why or how I was able to do what I did. I was as astonished as you. But I just went with it—didn't resist. I knew it would save our lives, I just knew it, just had to go with it."

  "So, Gerry in fact saved our lives that night. He did, didn't he?"

  "Yes, he did—well Gerry's brain, memory and skills did. I don't believe that there's any kind of ghostly presence. When that lightning bolt hit both of us at the same time, parts of him just downloaded into me. That's the only way I can look at it."

  Troy nodded and changed the subject again. "Mikey, what's the story with you and Cindy now? And with that Teskey prick? I know you were going to pursue a complaint—did you do that?"

  "Cindy and I are finished. I still love her, Troy, but there's far too much water under the bridge now. Her affair with Teskey is only part of it—we could get past that if that's all there was. She's just not comfortable with me anymore, and I'm not the same person she fell in love with. It would never be the same again. And with the trauma she suffered from the horror she witnessed in the gym that night, she'll never be the same again. My presence would keep reminding her and bring it all back. She's better off without me now."

  Troy reached over and squeezed Mike's shoulder. "I guess I can understand that. You seem at peace with it."

  "I am. And as for Teskey, I decided not to file a complaint. It would just drag Cindy through the mud. She'd have to testify at the hearing, it would be messy and embarrassing for her. I didn't want to do that to her. What happened just happened. I can't turn back the clock and my wish for vengeance against Teskey would only hurt Cindy and the girls."

  "I think you made the right decision. Best to just move on."

  Mike nodded. "Yeah, and I see the girls every week—as long as I can still be with them whenever I want, I'm happy. Cindy's been very cooperative that way. The girls don't understand what's
going on, they don't know anything about what happened with Teskey and they never will, but they seem to be adapting as well as can be expected."

  Mike took a deep breath and continued. "Speaking of moving on, you should know that there's a new woman in my life. I met her accidentally through that little boy who was hiding in the garbage dumpster. Remember him? She's his mother. Her name is Alison. They live just around the corner from here."

  "Really? Mikey, you never told me! What's the deal?"

  "I know. I should have told you. I've been keeping her kind of my little secret. But you'll meet her. She's pretty special to me; in fact there's no doubt in my mind that I'm in love with her. The four of us should double-date sometime, take in a hockey game or something?"

  "Wow, I'm shocked. Okay, but I want to hear the whole story very soon. Promise me?"

  "I promise, buddy." Mike glanced at his watch. "But right now, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be over at her house right now. I can't believe how the time has flown by today. Time slips past pretty fast when you're unemployed, eh?"

  Mike and Troy stood up and shook hands. Suddenly Troy reached out and threw his arms around Mike in a strong bear hug. They embraced each other—two friends, the only ones left now out of the inseparable college foursome.

  *****

  Mike parked in front of the little red clapboard house, a familiar parking spot for him now. He walked up the front steps, and before he could knock the door swung open revealing his gorgeous new lover wearing the biggest smile he had ever seen in his life. Her eyes lit up the day or night when she smiled. Ali had a face that always had a lot going on—good stuff going on. Mike had lost track trying to count all of the different expressions, and the cute little moves she made with her mouth—pouts, puckers, the twinkling eyes, twists of her head causing her long hair to fly across her face. She was fascinating. He knew he could look at her, just look at her, for the rest of his life.

  She threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him softly on the lips. She pulled her head back and gazed lovingly into his eyes. Mike felt as if he was going to melt away into a puddle right there on her front porch. He loved this girl. He knew it without a doubt.

  "So, what did I do to deserve this public display of affection? You normally don't kiss me in bountiful splendor on your front porch!"

  "Well, get inside then and I'll do even more!"

  Ali led Mike by the hand into the living room. He noticed that the table was set in the dining room, candles lit, a bottle of red wine already breathing.

  "Ali, it's about an hour too early for dinner, and I just finished lunch. It looks lovely though. But why is the table only set for two?"

  "I knew you were having a late lunch, so we're just going to have a light pasta dinner. And we can just sip wine until you're hungry...or do other things, your call." She smiled seductively at him.

  Mike drew her into his arms and kissed her warmly on the lips. He adored her affectionate nature, her warm innocent heart; two of the qualities that made her a special mom as well as a special lover. He drew back, cupping her pretty face in his hands. "But where's Jonas? Isn't he eating with us?"

  "That's one of the reasons I'm so happy tonight. Jonas was invited to his first ever sleepover with friends! I'm so excited for him! And so was he—you should have seen his little face, Mike. I was so proud."

  "That's really amazing. He's come such a long way, hasn't he? He has confidence now, and friends—and best of all, he's not being bullied any longer."

  "A huge cloud has been lifted from me. My darling little boy's heart is not being hurt anymore. Mike, it's all due to you. You've had such a positive effect on him—the speech lessons, the sports you play with him, talks you both have together. My God, where did you come from? What did we do to deserve you?"

  Mike squeezed her tightly again, and ran his fingers lovingly through her long hair. He loved her even more at moments when she was like this— exuberant, excited, effervescent. His heart was on fire.

  Ali kissed his neck. "You're our hero, Mike. You came to save us."

  "Not so much a hero, Ali, just someone who was at the wrong place at the right time. Funny how life works sometimes—destiny, whatever we want to call it." He twirled her hair in his fingers, and leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose. "So, what you're saying is that we're alone tonight. We can make as much noise as we want?"

  "As much as we want, sweetie. So, wait here while I get into something more comfortable. Boy, is that ever a cliché line, eh? But it still works!" She slid off the couch, and floated off to the bedroom, leaving Mike with an exhilarating sense of anticipation. He thought back to that first sexual experience they had had, with the ice cubes and the champagne. He trembled at the images in his mind.

  They had been intimate many times since then and each time was a surprise. It wasn't that she always did different things—she didn't. It was more just the way she did them. Sex had never been so passionate or satisfying for him until Ali.

  A few minutes later she glided out from the bedroom, a captivating smile lighting up her face like a thousand twinkling lights. Mike gasped. She was wearing a multi-colored silk dressing gown, deep cut in the front displaying the curve of her beautiful breasts. The sleeves of the gown were wide and flowing, like a kimono. But it was still just a dressing gown and he could never have imagined that a piece of clothing could take his breath away. But Mike knew it had a lot to do with who was wearing it. And on Ali, it looked stunning.

  She went over to the dining table, poured two glasses of wine, and carried them and the bottle over to the couch where Mike was relaxing. She sat on his lap, and they toasted to Jonas, to each other. Half an hour later and two more glasses of wine each they were still toasting—to silly things, giggly things, anything.

  Mike knew that Ali was naked under the dressing gown. The smooth texture of her bare skin was apparent underneath the silky dressing gown. Nothing got in the way as she slid back and forth on his lap. He was still fully clothed, but was quickly reaching the painful point where he needed to strip, badly. His penis was pushing so hard against his jeans that he felt as if it could drill its way right through the button fly.

  Ali never liked it if he was naked too soon. She liked to tease him, make him sweat, make him cry out for relief. Mike always felt a bit frustrated when she did that to him. But when he did achieve orgasm after usually an hour or so of playing around, it was an explosion; a much more satisfying orgasm than if she had allowed him to hurry it in typical male fashion. Ali always knew what she was doing. And Mike always let her do it.

  He reached for her but she pushed him back, making him watch her lap dance for just a little while longer. He groaned in pain, his jeans getting tighter and tighter by the second.

  Then, mercifully, she slid off his lap and took him by the hand. He obeyed her silent command as she led him into the bedroom. She stopped him beside the bed and began gently disrobing him, not saying a word. The room was quiet except for the sound of Mike's labored breaths.

  Once he was naked with his penis already extended somewhat in the direction of the ceiling, Ali gently pushed him back onto the bed. She went around to the night table and opened a drawer, withdrawing four multi-colored silk scarves. Quickly and playfully, she tied his wrists to the brass headboard and his ankles to the footboard. Mike had no urge to resist. He was always titillated with whatever ideas she came up with. And surprisingly, for a take-charge aggressive guy, he enjoyed being a mere bystander until it was his turn to play. This was like his private little peep show.

  Ali crawled on top of him with the grace of a mountain lioness, robe now discarded, and reached her lips up to his, kissing him deeply, probing with her tongue right to what seemed like the very base of his. For a weirdly glorious second he was afraid he was going to gag. Her tongue slid, licked, probed, while at the same time she took his erect penis in her hand and squeezed it, worked it, teased it. When she seemed satisfied with what she had molded, she slid her body down in one
fluid motion until her lips found their target. The tip of his penis was now in her mouth. She was circling it with her tongue, confusing it.

  Mike stretched his muscular body against the restraints, hoping against hope that he could loosen them. But his efforts only made the knots grow tighter. He was breathing faster now and could feel the blood rushing through his veins. A warm sensation was taking over and he knew, could feel, that his face was very flushed now. His head seemed to be throbbing in cadence with his penis.

  As if sensing he needed relief, she gently blew on the now soaked tip, the sensation of her breath bringing him instant relief, slowing him down, cooling him off. Then she crawled like a wild cat once again, bringing her pelvis up close to his face. Inserting her fingers between her legs, she began to rock. Mike was mesmerized as he watched her rub and stroke herself mere inches from his lips, her own breathing now irregular and gasping, eyes glazed over, seemingly oblivious to him.

  He yearned to touch her, kiss her, lick her, but all he could do was watch and wait while stretching in futility against the sexy scarves holding him captive.

  She then inched her body forward a few inches, still on her knees, and framed his face with her strong thighs allowing him to penetrate her with his tongue. He could feel and taste the incredible wetness; he knew she was ready and he knew he was ready, but she wasn't yet willing to give in. She straddled his face for a few more minutes. He gazed up at her beautiful sensual eyes in wonder, as his tongue did its work.

  Suddenly she moved, inching back down the bed ever so smoothly until she met resistance from his erect penis. She leaned back, pressing her buttocks against the throbbing and pleading member. Mike groaned as the pressure on his penis intensified, being teased and forced in an unnatural direction by her shapely ass.

  Without warning, she lifted herself up and onto him in one fluid motion. He felt her warmth and wetness and he wanted to scream out, 'thank you!' Mike felt the sudden need to reach out and grab her body tightly, and to pull his knees up into a bent position. But he couldn't move. He was her prisoner, and she was gently raping him. Ali leaned her head down, long hair falling forward covering most of her face, and whispered, "Fuck me."