Blind Fold, page 14
“What is that?” she whispered when the waiter left.
“Fried mushrooms. They’re delicious, I’ll let you try some of mine,” he told her and just like that, the evening changed. They felt like a couple on a date, speaking of places to vacation and travel later in the year. She spoke of a friend or two back home and he spoke of his fraternal brothers, taking fondly of Joel Thomas.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” she said. “The girl, is she, his daughter? The one you call your niece?”
“No, she is the daughter of one of my other fraternity brothers,” he said with feeling. “She has a unicorn fetish. Adorable little girl, but creepy.”
“I look forward to meeting them all,” she said, enjoying the meal, but also the company. “You said creepy. Why do you think the child is creepy?”
“She has a purple aura and she can almost read people in a way that is disconcerting,” he said, “ergo, creepy.”
Both opted to skip dessert. Nichelle was excited about what was next as they pulled up to the theater. The line wrapped around the building for people anxious to get inside to hear Melissa Etheridge. Nichelle looked at him with some confusion.
“I would have never guessed you were a fan of her music,” she said, as they reached the will call booth.
“There are a lot of things about me that would surprise you woman,” he told her with a wink.
The interior of the theater reminded her of the grand old movie houses from Humphrey Bogart movies. He led her inside and up the side stairs to a private booth for them to enjoy the show. Uriel moved closer to her, nearly sitting directly under her as his hand touched her thigh.
“This theater was designed by Graven & Mayger, a couple of Chicago architects back in the 1920s,” he said, sliding his hand up her thigh. He wanted to distract her from focusing too closely on him. “I really haven’t had a chance to tell you how much I truly enjoyed making love to you the other day.”
His lips touched the side of her check, working his way down her throat as his hand slid further up her thigh. He nibbled around the pearl earring in her ear, actually unfastening the screw-on backing with his tongue. He showed off both between his teeth as Nichelle squirmed in the chair.
“You’re next, when the house lights go down, so will I,” he said, spitting the pieces into her hand. His fingers made contact with the lace of her underpants, dancing around the fabric as he spoke softly in her ear. “The actual design is a cross between a Spanish-Moorish style interior.”
“Oooh,” she whispered as his finger pulled her underwear to the side.
“Elements from all over the world are incorporated into the décor from Czechoslovakian crystals in the French-style chandeliers. I love the coolness of the Italian terrazzo flooring in the lobby and of course the Asian influences in the carpet and drapery patterns,” he said as his fingers plunged inside of her.
“Uriel,” she whispered as he captured her moans of pleasure with his mouth, moving his fingers quickly in and out of her bringing her to the brink of pleasure and then he stopped. “What? What’s happening? Is somebody coming?”
“Shshh, curtain is about to go up,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’m going to go and wash my hands, be back in a second.”
“Oh, no you didn’t either,” she said, looking at him with fire in her eyes. She stared at his back as he left the booth, heading out, but then she heard his voice. Listening closely, he ran into someone he knew. She got to her feet, standing at the edge of the curtains which were closed, sheltering them form passersby, straining to hear the introductions of the man and his wife. Nichelle waited to see if her husband was coming for her to introduce her to his friend.
He didn’t.
Her suspicions went up as the warm up act took to the stage. Uriel hadn’t returned by the time the announcer went through his spiel and the curtain went down. He showed up quietly, without a sound when the curtain went up, her husband was seated in the chair. Nichelle was still standing by the curtain and she hadn’t seen or heard him come back in.
“What kind of ninja shit was that?” She asked, “I was standing by the curtain and I didn’t see you pass by me. How the hell did you get back in this booth and I not see you. I was standing right there.”
“If you had been seated, you would have seen me come back in the booth; what were you doing any way?”
“Eavesdropping, but that’s beside the point,” she said, thumping him on the arm. “How did you get back in here? Did you climb over the balcony seating or something?”
“Nichelle, there is a door right there,” he said pointing to the dark interior. In one motion he pulled her onto his lap. His hand, once more on her thigh, “You want to hear her sing or head to the hotel to finish what I started?”
Nichelle got to her feet, grabbed her evening bag and headed for the steps. Melissa wasn’t the only one drowning in her desire. She was ready for a real wedding night and a whole night in the arms of her man. A man, she not only respected, but also liked. Her liking, was leaning a great deal toward loving, although she had no idea who in the world she’d married. At this point, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she’d be, whatever he needed in a wife.
*****
The Tennessean Hotel was an arm’s throw from the theater, and draped in Southern gentility and old-world charm. Nichelle watched closely as her husband checked in, and she noticed he didn’t need to leave a cash deposit or credit card for their stay. He said his name a key was passed to him for a one-bedroom suite. They rode the elevator in silence, his hand tightly holding hers, and a messenger bag draped over his shoulder. At the hotel door, he opened it with one hand, and lifted her over his shoulder with the other.
“Uriel!” She said shocked at how fast he moved.
“I didn’t get to carry you over the threshold earlier, so I’m doing it now,” he said softly, placing her on the floor. “It’s been a long day, allow me to draw you a bath.”
“Are you getting in it with me?”
His hand gently touched her cheek. One Way stared deeply into her eyes, “you are always so busy taking care of everyone else. Tonight, allow me a moment of indulgence to take care of you.”
“You can take care of me by getting naked and making sure I understand the role of being your wife,” she told him, kicking off her shoes. His eyes followed the black pumps, and he did not like untidiness.
“Let me start you a bath, you soak, listen to some nice music, and in a half hour, we can take care of the rest of the night,” he told her, planting a light kiss on her mouth.
He intentionally skirted around her, knowing, that if he for one second took his wife into his arms, he would not go to work. The sick man on floor beneath them would wake up in the morning, very alive, and he would be in a world of trouble. One of the last things he ever wanted was to have Falling Rocks come in behind him and get the job done. That dude was crazy, even by his standards.
One Way started the water in the oversized tub. Lavender scented bath salts with lemon zest crystals he tossed into the water as the heady scent of relaxation filled the space. He could hear his wife in the other room undressing as he focused his energy on the tasks ahead. Pop a cap in the back of a man’s head, get away without being seen, and return to this fancy ass hotel room and remind his woman why she consented to being his wife.
The sound of Nichelle clearing her throat pulled him from his thoughts. She was bare to the world naked and looking finer than a mink coat on a hillbilly with four teeth. He swallowed hard trying to remember all of his discipline as she walked past him. A familiar scent that still lingered on his tongue filled his nostrils forcing his pupils to dilate.
“Good grief damn and hot sauce on a fried chicken wing,” he said aloud wondering where in the hell that came from.
“Now you sound like a man who grew up in Tennessee,” she said, lifting her leg, and testing the bath water with her toe. “Hmm, just right.”
He watched the ebony sink into the water. One Way took a seat on the side of the tub. Everything in him wanted to strip down and join her, but he had a man to go and kill. She asked if he’d wash her back. He declined.
“Soak for thirty minutes and in a half an hour, you best be ready for me,” he told her. A tender caress went to her cheek as he rose, closing the bathroom door.
The messenger back slung across his body; he took the stairs to the lobby. From the bag, he pulled out the wallet of Celine Normandy. A little item he’d stolen from her while he chatted up her husband. He took the wallet to the front desk, informing them he’d found it at the theater. It only took the desk attendant half a second to make the call for the woman to come down and retrieve to lessen the number of hands touching the item, Mrs. Normandy had reported lost.
As Mrs. Normandy came down the stairs, looking frazzled and out of sorts, One Way entered the elevator, riding up to the fifth floor. He used a time-honored trick of thieves to gain entrance to the Summit Suite where he could hear the retching of Phil Normandy, a ruddy face bully he attended high school and college with. Phil played football on both the high school and college team, going pro for a year a two before being sidelined with a torn ACL. One Way had no fond memories of the man other than he was an oppressor. He slipped open the bathroom door, placed one foot inside and a Phil looked up, about to ask the same, dumb-ass question they all asked a man pointing a gun at their heads; One Way had no time for that, he placed a bullet in between his eyes. The once taut body, not with a middle age spread, slumped to the floor, crumpled in an undignified form of a man who lived an undignified life. From his messenger bag, a small flesh colored stopper got retrieved and filled the hole in Phil’s face. Out of courtesy for his wife, he closed the man’s eyes, and slipped out the way he came in.
As Mrs. Normandy stepped out of the elevator, One Way entered the stairwell, his face down from the cameras, sticking close to the walls and blinds spots, going up two flights to the seventh floor to his room. Slithering in the door, the vibe of the suite had changed. He pulled his weapon, picking up the high heeled shoes still scattered in the center of the floor when Nichelle came out of the room. Her eyes spotted the weapon with the silencer as her husband tried to slide it behind his thigh. She pursed her lips as if he was trying to hide the monkey that he carried on his back when he walked in the room.
She asked, cinching the cording on the silk robe, “Are you through working for the night?”
“In one way, but in another, I’m just about to get warmed up,” he said, passing the shoes to her and placing the weapon in the messenger bag.
“You have a little schmutz on your face. It looks like blood,” she said, looking him square in the eyes.
One Way didn’t respond but walked past her. In the bathroom she heard him washing his hands and the water splashing. She assumed he cleaned his face, which appeared tired. Silently, like a stealthy cat stalking his prey, he appeared behind his wife, startling her as he spoke in her ear.
“Undress me,” he said softly. “No words. Take your time. Prepare me mentally to take care of everything you need from me.”
Nichelle started with the messenger bag, removing it from across his body. In another pair of high heeled red mules, complete with fur across the toes, she placed the bag under the side of the bed where he slept. The one button which held the black jacket fastened, she loosened, walking around him, pulling the material from his shoulders. If she were a maiko, her job would have been to start at the bottom and work her way up his male form. As his wife, she started at the top and worked her way down; removing the band from his hair, allowing the dark mane to fall about his shoulders.
The cufflinks were next, being gently removed and placed on the dresser, next to his hair brush. She stood close in front of him, unfastening one button after the other, until the shirt was pulled from the waistband of the black trousers, removed from his body, and placed on a hanger next to the jacket in the closet. One Way wore a wife beater that she pulled from the waist of the pants and over his head. He stared at her as if he were bored by her actions as she neatly folded the tee, placing it in the top drawer. She reached for his belt noticing the change in his reaction to her administration of the assigned task. Intentionally, she allowed her fingers to graze his excitement as she unzipped the pants, and jerked the belt tightly before opening the start of her wedding night festivities.
He waited for her to removed the pants, but instead she bent, unlacing his shoes. Her hands pressed down on his feet, holding down the leather as he slid his feet out of the shoes. Warmth radiated through the black socks as she eased each sock from his foot. Last, but not least, as she stood, the pants were freed, allowing the fabric to ease down his well-toned thighs, leaving nothing but the black boxer-briefs. She noticed the catch in his breath as her fingers hooked inside the waist of the underwear. Her eyes met his as she reached inside, engulfing him in her hand, massaging with vigor as the stress he carried into the room left his body.
Nichelle didn’t utter a word as she led him to the bed. One hand pulled at the cord on her robe, opening it to reveal her nude form. If she’d wanted to speak, she couldn’t. In a single motion she found herself on her back on the bed, her husband hovering about her shuddering body, his mouth close to her ear and the black underwear were no more. Nothing stood between man and wife as Uriel Tamagotchi claimed what he knew to be his.
“I can’t promise I will be gentle,” he warned her.
“I’ve never asked you to husband,” she said, as her breath caught as he made them one.
The intensity of his passion, that she thought was a fluke from the first time he made love to her, was very real. The same overwhelming sensations which coursed through her body making her tremble through her first release as he moved inside of her in a way she didn’t understand but loved. The feel of his smooth, bare chest against her breasts excited her senses and making her shiver underneath him.
One Way held nothing back as his hips moved with precision. The sound of their lovemaking fueled him as he held on tightly, biting down on her shoulder, trying his best to hold on, but he was losing.
“Bring me with you,” he demanded of her.
Nichelle moved under him, clenching, rotating, pulling at him with every muscle in her body, clamping down until he winced.
“Damn, this feels so good,” he said, gripping her tightly and pumping hard.
She wanted to make him feel as good as he did her, and she added a few moves which caught him off guard. A gurgling sound came from his throat as his left arm began to shake, he clenched his butt cheeks and Nichelle swore she heard the man purr. They exploded together, collapsing in a heap of arms and legs.
One Way, reluctant to break the connection, pulled away, and lie on his back, staring at the ceiling. There were things he wanted to say, and things which needed to be said, but he was tired. Tired of the job. Tired of killing people. Tired of being less than honest with those in his life. Thus far it hadn’t produced the desired results he sought and he deserved happiness. She was willing to give it, and all he had to do was ask. Tonight, he was going to ask the universe to give back to him.
“Nichelle, I hope in time you can learn to love me. I will treat you well and raise the boy as my own,” he said, feeling entirely too emotional.
“I love you already, and I have no doubts of your intentions toward me and my son,” she said, “the question is, are you strong enough to continue your line of work, you know balancing the books?”
“I don’t think I’m strong enough to handle any of what’s coming my way, Nichelle. I’m done pretending that the thought of losing my mother isn’t breaking me apart on the inside, but I will not show her my fear or worry,” he said. “I didn’t rescue you. You rescued me from a life that was about to be too dark to bear.”
“Tell me what you need husband.”
“I need love, that’s all I need right now. Simply love me anyway you know how,” he said turning, to face her. His arm thrown across her midsection, as his eyes closed.
A new fear set in for Nichelle Tamagotchi. Her husband had a gun with a silencer and blood on his face. There was no doubt the weapon had been fired. She could smell the sulfur emanating from the bag. He’d killed someone and walked in the door and asked to be undressed as if she were his personal geisha. Her fears were stoked even more after he made love to her like a demon rode his coat tails and closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep as if he’d done nothing wrong and his body had hit a flatline.
Her husband was a sociopath.
“I love you,” she said, feeling sorry for herself for once again, falling for the wrong damned man.
“I love you back; stop staring at me and go to sleep,” he said, pulling her into his arms, cupping a tit, and snuggling close. “I would never hurt you or the boy.”
Chapter Sixteen - Overlap
He was hurting. Everything in him hurt as his body ached from the infection roaming through it from the bullet wound in the thigh. To make matters worse, his neighbor’s yappy ass dog barked at every bird, bus, or truck that passed by. Being at home everyday made him hate the yappy little pointy-faced dog with a passion.
“I’ve got something for you, little Mr. Pesky,” he said, limping his way out the back door to the workshop in his backyard.
A well-ventilated workshop is where he’d stored the chemicals he’d take from Wrong Way’s van. Good chemicals. Chemicals that dissolved bones, tissue and minute details like fingernails and teeth. Mr. Pesky was going in one of the barrels as soon as his owner went to work and he could take out the security cameras, which was no problem since Neighbor Number Stupid didn’t alter the encryption for the security system he bought on the internet.
In the garage The Glitter Man opened the barrel to find the majority of the contents had evaporated. Nothing was left but the acting compound and green sludgy water. The barrel full of perfectly engineered chemicals were gone.
