Текст книги "Indecent Cravings: Part Three"

Автор книги: S. K. Cross

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Chapter 11

The Redmond Apts may not be a luxurious paradise, but it’s a hell of an upgrade from the Clarion Towers.

That’s my thought as I approach Karissa’s left hand steps in the blistering steamy heat.

I took a taxi this time, asking the driver to wait outside. You never know. I may need to run quickly.

I hate to say that, but after everything, I’ve learned about Karissa lately I’m a little leery about her. Not to mention the way she de-friended me completely.

Such a shame. We got to be such close friends, but she couldn’t tell me her main source of income.

Abigail, wake up! The signs were all there for you to see! You made yourself deliberately blind, choosing not to see it!

Yeah, probably true.

I want to make amends, though.

I mean, I’m not going to move back in with a hooker, naturally. Especially not with the new pad I have.

But I need to make things right with Karissa. I have no idea how, but I’m going to do my best.

The man with the towel over his waist is there as always. He just smiles at me. A fly lands in his white beard.

I stifle an urge to vomit.

There it is, ahead of me. The door I called home for a brief while. I would like to get back the paltry few pieces of clothing I left here, too. There was one print top I especially liked.

I take a deep breath and knock on the door.

Nothing but silence. The courtyard doesn’t make a sound. The man in the towel doesn’t make a sound, just smiles.

Everything tilts oddly, like I’m seeing it through a bent lens. What’s up with that?

Then it all rights itself again. WTF?

A ball of anger rises inside of me. I knock again, harder this time.

Nothing.

I take out my key and try putting it in the lock, but it doesn’t fit. Shit, the lock has been changed. She changed the fucking lock! The bitch!

Now I’m mad.

I bang on the door.

“Karissa!” I shout. “Open up! I want to talk to you!”

Shit, the sun is desperate today and the dew point is so high I might vaporize.

I pound on the cheap door.

“Yo, Karissa! Hey! Yo! Open up!”

Nothing.

Another pounding.

“Karissa, I’ve got stuff in there! If you don’t want to talk to me, at least let me have my things!”

The door finally begins to open.

Oh, thank God.

I’m about to launch into a big spiel about how we fell out of touch, but the person who greets me at the door makes me take three steps back.

He’s a big black man about the size of Delaware. His hair has a carved part in it, but that’s the only sense of style about him. He’s dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. I take another step back.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he says.

“Oh,” I say, “um . . . I thought . . . I was just looking for Karissa. Is she in?”

“I don’t know no fucking Karissa.” He looks me up and down. His mean demeanor softens as he leans on the door. Then he smiles.

“This is her place. She lives here.”

“Not anymore she don’t. This is my place. I just moved in. But seeing as you’re a friend of the previous tenant, I’m more than happy to have you in.”

Shit.

I’ve got to get the fuck out of here.

I don’t even wait for my slow brain to think of anything to say. I just run to the taxi and tell the driver to take me back to the beach.

As we pull away, I catch a glimpse of the man in the towel.

He’s just smiling at me.

Shit.

Where the fuck is Karissa?

Chapter 12

I’m in a suite at the British Colonial Hilton in downtown Nassau, laying prone on the bed, which is covered by a tarp. Wet strokes dance this way and that all over my body as the artist paints me.

Lorena flew in Karl Werz, a sixty-ish pony-tailed man in a white pirate shirt open to his waist, who is supposedly the world’s foremost body paint artist. He doesn’t seem to be fazed in the least by my nakedness, fully absorbed in his meticulous brush strokes.

Gotta admit, I love the sensations. I mean, you know me by now, right? Pretty much anything sparks my girl down below to life. I’m doing my best to channel the ever-growing sexual energy into mental rehearsal of what I need to do tonight.

Seduce Lukas Thorn.

That’s my mission.

Holy shit.

I take a deep breath and count to ten, trying to control my breathing. Two weeks ago, I was a struggling waitress, worried about getting ketchup to table six and making sure the soup is hot enough for table four. Now I’m a professional seductress for hire, about to walk into a parade wearing nothing but body paint.

Karl Werz steps back from me, squints, grunts, and then mixes a new color, adding a finishing touch.

One more step backwards, and then he raises his eyebrows.

“Gut,” he says, “I zink zat’s it.”

I lean up on my elbows. “Can I get up?”

“Ja. Ve are done.” He motions to the mirror.

I close my eyes, swing myself off the tarp, and take the three steps to the ornate three-way mirror. Lorena nearly glows as she gazes at me with a huge smile. She takes a fake puff from her cigarette-less holder.

“Unbelievable,” she says. “Karl, I think you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

I gasp and put my hands up to my mouth at the sight greeting me.

The person I see in the mirror . . . isn’t even a person. It’s some sort of water-nymph creature. I’m completely indigo. Painted on the middle of my body from my breasts downward is an elaborate design that looks somewhat like a short dress that’s part body wrap, part bikini that’s made out of leaves. Or are those waves? Or are those shells?

Whatever it is, it looks amazingly real. I swear I have clothes on, and yet I know I don’t. When I move left and right, it even appears to cast shadows, making it appear truly three-dimensional. How did he do that?

My lips are a fluorescent blue with sparkles that contrast sharply with the indigo of my skin. It matches my eye shadow and mascara. The contacts in my eyes glow a bright aquamarine. A sparkling gold flower adorns the temple by my right ear, blending seamlessly into my bluish-purple hair.

“Holy shit,” I say. “What am I?”

“Stunning,” says Lorena. “That’s what you are.”

“No, but what is this?” I turn to Karl Werz.

He just shrugs his shoulders. “Vater nymph?” he says. “Spirit mermaid? I know not. Mein verk ist complete.”

He begins packing up his kit of paint.

I turn to see my backside.

Oh my God, that looks real!

I swear I can almost feel the bristles of the . . . whatever they are . . . rubbing against my skin. I look like something out of a science-fiction or fantasy movie.

I turn to the other side. My butt looks amazing. The pounds I need to lose are delightfully hidden.

As is my pussy, of course. God, the very sight of my own self is, for once in my life, spectacular. I think I want to fuck me.

“This is incredible,” I say. “I can’t even tell I’m naked.”

“Zat is ze point,” says Karl Werz.

“Thank you!” I say. “Thank you so much.”

I go to give him a hug, but he reels from me with a shocked expression. “No, no, no! Give ze front a half an hour before you let anyzing touch it.”

“Oh, okay. I just wanted to thank you.”

“Frau MacCall has already zanked me for you. Quite handsomely, too.”

In five minutes, the odd man has everything into a large leather bag. He tosses on a three-corner hat straight from the eighteenth century, bows, and heads to the door without a word.

Once he’s gone, I turn to Lorena and make a happy squealing noise.

“You are going to be spectacular,” says Lorena. “There is no way Lukas Thorn can resist you.”

She gets up, moves over to her briefcase, and opens it up.

She takes out the earpiece headset with which we’ve practiced for the past two weeks and brings it over to me. She expertly fits it in my ear. It blends in seamlessly as the center of the golden flower.

Then she walks back to the briefcase, takes out the transmitter, and turns it on. I hear a tiny beep in my ear.

She turns away from me and speaks into it. “Can you hear me, Jayd?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.” She turns it off, walks over to me, and hands it to me.

I bite my lip, glancing in the mirror at the odd but very sexy creature glaring back at me from the netherworld.

“You know what to do. It’s showtime.”

Chapter 13

Lorena and I are in the back seat of a Mercedes-Benz driven by her bodyguard, Vargas. He’s the same tall bald man with the goatee that I used to see when he would pick her up at the restaurant.

We’re moving very slowly down the street because the street is packed with so many people. Music fills the air with heavy rhythmic beats, hitting us from all sides.

The Junkanoo used to be held only on December 26th, but to capitalize on the tourism business, Nassau now has several festivals a year, all involving costumes and street parades.

The air is thick, the music is driving, and there are what feels like millions of people. Vendors sell everything from glo-sticks to diamond jewelry. Performers are everywhere, in costumes of every variety. Dancing girls throw odd lights into the air, do somersaults, then catch the lights as they fall down again. The lights vanish completely as if they were never there.

A laser light show brings several corpses out of coffins where they seemingly float in the air to an upright position. When their eyes open, they glow as if lit by flashlights from behind.

The locals are all in costumes, scurrying past and around the tourists. I bet they’re paid performers, though. Real Bahamians must be sick of this.

“Lukas is in a house around the next corner,” says Lorena. “He is on the second floor, outdoor deck with a gathering of ladies.”

“How do you know this?” I say. She just smiles at me and takes a fake puff while patting my knee.

Note to self:Practice not answering questions by just smiling. Powerful shit. I’ll skip the fake cigarette, though. That’s just cheesy. I need to tell her sometime. But then again, who cares? She’s old. If you make it to eighty, do whatever the fuck you want.

The car rounds the corner, the amazing asses of three girls in masks and tinsel fringe bikinis parting to let the car through.

The house appears on my right. My heart beats out of my chest.

It’s one of those old, traditional Bahamian houses. The recipe is simple. Start with a basic two-story New England wooden house then add balconies all around. Make sure you put fancy designs all around the moldings and railings. Oh, and paint it in bright colors, naturally.

The second floor balcony of this one, which is a bright peach with white trim, is teeming with girls. Some are wearing nothing but bikinis. Others are in costume wear. All seem to have drinks.

Then I see him.

My heart leaps out of my chest.

There he is. Right in the middle. Laughing and holding a drink with that carefree expression that he pulls off so well, just like at Lorena’s party which feels like a century ago now.

Damn. He’s got two girls with their arms around him.

Well, of course he does, Abigail! He’s Lukas Thorn. He was probably born with two girls with their arms around him.

Everything but him vanishes again. The world rights itself around its center of existence there on that balcony. All that has been confusing me lately – my dad, Trevor, Karissa’s disappearance . . . fades away.

Lukas Thorn is again in his usual white flowing oversized shirt, open almost to his waist, those spectacular pecs on display for the entire world to reach out and grab. The shirt would look goofy on most men, but it so works on him.

Black jeans again. Good. I hate men in shorts, even if it is five thousand degrees and the humidity is as thick as melting rubber.

On a side note, I think I’m getting used to the humidity now. I don’t sweat as much. My body’s thermometer must be adjusting to it or something.

“Pull over here,” says Lorena. The car moves to a spot under the balcony. “Are you ready?” says Lorena.

I grip the transmitter tightly and tap the earpiece. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Vargas gets out of the car and opens the passenger door. I get out. He gets back in and drives off with Lorena, leaving me standing all alone naked in the middle of the street.

I glance up at the people on the second floor wraparound deck of the Bahamian house. Everybody is looking at me.

Everybody except for Lukas Thorn, that is. He’s too busy talking to a dark-skinned Latina girl, his nose in her hair as he whispers into her ear.

Bitch.

Oh yeah? Well, watch this!

I start to dance.

Lorena brought in a dance coach to teach me some sexy moves. I remember seeing Karissa making some of them at T’s. I do not have the luxury of a pole in the middle of this street, though.

A gasp of giggles and “Oh my Gods” hits the second floor of the house as all the girls stare at me.

I gotta admit, it’s incredibly exciting to be dancing naked in the middle of a crowded street, even if it’s not readily obvious that I’m naked. Not to mention the fact that so many people are looking at me.

But not Lukas Thorn!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

The music is loud and everywhere, so it’s not hard to gyrate to a beat. I kick it up a notch, running my hands all up and down my body.

“Is she naked?” says one girl. “Oh my God, she is!”

At that moment, a taxi comes down the street, lighting me up with its headlights. Perfect. I freeze in a dance pose with one arm up.

That does it.

Lukas Thorn looks down at me.

But does he recognize me?

The taxi honks its horn, but I don’t move.

Our eyes lock. It’s like before. We connect through that strand of ethereal matter that exists only between us.

Yep, there it is. I feel it. It’s like an electrical charge from another galaxy. Sorry, Trevor. I love you and all, but no man on earth besides this living breathing beast does this to me. I have no idea what it is. All I know is that I love it.

I smile up at him, knowing my eyes look like a creature rising from the depths of the planet Neptune.

As usual, his expression is blank, with that damned little half-smile like he’s mildly amused. He takes a gulp of his drink without breaking the stare. The girls around him are trying to recapture his attention. Some are making faces at me.

Do you recognize me, Lukas? Do you?

Lorena coached me on what to do next. It goes against my instinct, because I have to fight the urge to run into the house, up the stairs, and throw myself onto him.

But I do exactly the opposite. I put a big seductive smile on my face, then bend over while bringing my finger up to my mouth while facing him. Just as it nears my chin, I give him the “come here” wiggle with my index finger.

Then I slowly turn and walk away from him across the street.

God, that was hot! Oh my God, did I really just do that?

I feel so goddamned sexy. All the people looking at me. The taxi honking its horn. Guys drooling. Girls drooling. Lukas Thorn in shock.

I’m giggling inside as I sway my hips slowly through the crowd.

Slow down, Abigail! Slow down! You want him to be able to catch up with you!

This is the hardest part. What if he doesn’t follow me?

Lorena told me not to look back. Just keep going, knowing he would follow. Why? Why is she so sure that I am something special to him?

I have to keep forcing that thought out of my mind. I cannot allow myself to really believe that I could truly be something that special to Lukas Thorn . . . well, not yet anyway. I need to keep my cool.

I’m almost out of sight of the house now. I can see the ocean straight ahead. The ancient houses leading down to the next intersection are lit up like a thousand Christmas trees. Revelers everywhere gawk at me.

For the first time in my life, I’m completely comfortable with people staring at me. So powerful. So energizing. I feel like I can do anything.

I’m laughing inside at how even the people walking along the street part for me. It’s like I’m placing a trance on everyone. What are they thinking? Do they think I’m hot? Or are they frightened at the surreal beast girl?

Or can they really tell I’m naked? Some can, I’m sure . . . those who know what to look for.

I’m almost at the post on the street corner. I see it ahead at the intersection up ahead. Lorena said to turn and lean on it.

Shit, I’m frightened. What if he’s not following me?

Then everything is lost. I’m a complete failure. All of this planning and plotting. For nothing.

My heart beats out of my chest as I near the post.

“Slut!” says a girl to me as she walks past me.

I laugh.

Funny, if I was called a slut before my experience at the submission school, I would have gotten all hot and bothered.

Now it’s a compliment, sending me back to the cold cell underneath the submission school, with a thrill and a surge of raw power from within.

Almost there.

I reach the post, take a deep breath, turn around, and put one leg up behind me onto it. Just like in rehearsal.

I close my eyes, say a small quick prayer, and then open them.

No Lukas Thorn.

Fuck.

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Rabidly, I scan the faces of the crowd. He’s got to be here! Lorena assured me he couldn’t resist the challenge!

But nothing.

Fuck.

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Okay, what do I do now?

Nothing. I’m going to wait this out. I’m just going to lean seductively on this post for as long as it takes. I know he’s coming. He’s got to be coming. I just need to give it time for the challenge to sink in, right?

Right? Answer me! Oh fuck, who am I talking to?

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, count to ten slowly, and open them again.

And there he is.

Oh God, it worked! It fucking worked!

I try not to leap out of my skin with absolute joy at the sight of the most gorgeous man on Earth. Like the crowd on the very same street just parted for me, the entire world seems to clear out of his way as he slowly saunters toward me.

Then he stops, shrugs his shoulders with a look that says WTF, and then glances back at his house party.

Come on, buddy! You’re not here yet! Come on! Don’t give up now! You don’t want those girls! You want me!

He shakes his head again like he can’t believe what he’s doing, or like he just figured out it’s me. Yeah, that’s it.

He puts his arm up to his neck and scratches while lowering his head.

Gahhhhhhhhhh, I love it when he does that. He can put his arm up to his neck and scratch while lowering his head all day, I’ll just watch, and I’ll be fine.

What is it about this man? What is the incredible power he has?

I mean, I used to turn my head at guys all the time, thought I might have given myself whiplash a few times. But ever since I laid eyes on this one, in that goddamned aluminum tube in the sky, I’ve barely noticed another man.

Well, no, there was Cock Toy. You couldn’t help but notice him. And the black boy with the endless dong. And, of course, Trevor.

He turns like he’s going to walk back.

Shit.

Lorena told me what to do here, forcing me to practice it in the mirror a hundred times. I lower my face, close my eyes while facing downward, and then slowly open my eyes fully while smiling.

She called it an “underlook.” Apparently, it’s something Lord Byron used to do when seducing ladies. I fell asleep in my Victorian poetry class back at Wellesley, so I didn’t pay much attention to Lord Byron but apparently he did this thing that made women swoon. It’s used mostly by guys, but girls can adapt it for much the same effect.

Damn, if I don’t see him melt.

Oh my God, he melts!

I sense it. I feel it. It’s like a moment. We are one. We are separated by about five hundred feet, with maybe a thousand or so frolickers in between us, but that ethereal connection binds us stronger than the most powerful magnet on earth.

I swear he could whisper and I could hear him. This is so intense. Life is so intense. I’m more alive now in this moment than I have ever been.

He isn’t immune to the force pulling us together, either. Or more like pushing. Because no matter what we do, it seems like when we’re in the same spot, gravity draws us to each other.

He shakes his head again, laughing  with that mysterious and oh-so-sexy half-smile. Then he throws one more glance behind him and begins walking to me.

Yes!

Yes, Lorena! You were right! I did it!

Holy shit, I have such power! I never knew I could affect the world around me like this. It’s like I wield magic.

But, no, I know what it is. I used to carry myself differently. Like Karissa said and like Lorena has tried to convince me, I have a certain attractiveness that I’ve kept hidden.

No, I’m not the most glamorous girl in the room. No, I don’t have the sexiest body. Yes, I could lose a few.

But I’ve got it. That certain something that makes a man like Lukas Thorn scratch his neck, look down, smile, and turn to approach me . . . me! . . . after leaving a fucking houseful of skinny beautiful model-type girls.

Damn, I think I could rule the world if I put my mind to it! I want to scream from the rooftops with joy!

Life, I am you!

The walk of Lukas Thorn as he saunters down the street is like a gladiator claiming his victory trophy. There is nothing he can’t do. He knows it, the world knows it.

In fact, we’re already attracting attention. Yes, there are other people in costume around us. Yes, it’s a wild and crazy festival.

But the profound intensity between the two of us is so statically charged that a handful of people stop to watch. They sense something powerful about to happen.

It’s the girls that notice it first, naturally, walking while holding hands with their boyfriends. They pull, motioning him to stop, while they stare.

Girls know. We have a much stronger sense of invisible human connection than guys. We can look at a room and know exactly what’s going on. Most guys are clueless at this.

But the girls on this street know. They see the volcanic fire erupting between this flowing god and the water nymph . . . and they want to see how it turns out.

After what feels like five centuries, Lukas Thorn finally reaches me. He pauses about a foot in front of me.

“It is you,” he says.

“Is it?” I say with a cheeky challenging tone.

He makes an ooooooh gesture with his lips, without saying anything. “You know, I–” His eyes catch my body paint and stare. He’s transfixed.

I giggle to myself inside.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here, Jayd, but it’s not going to work. I bet Lorena came up with this. Tell her I’m done.”

“I know your fantasy.”

“Excuse me? My what?”

“Your ultimate fantasy. Domination. Control. I’m offering it to you.” I lean into his ear. “Remotely.”

His eyebrows rise. I’ve said his favorite word, according to Lorena. He laughs. “Excuse me?”

“Control. It’s what you want. It’s what you crave. It’s your fetish. I’m giving you control of me. Give me commands and I will follow them. You can tell me to go home if you want, and I promise you I will. But I don’t think that’s what you will do. I’m offering you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I’m your complete property, Lukas Thorn.”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Look, I can’t say I’m not impressed. I’m very impressed. But–”

This is where Lorena coached me the most, on what to do next.

I leap forward, grab his hand, and place the transmitter in his palm. He looks down at it, and I turn and run across the street. I plant myself against the building on the far corner, the hard hot gray stone scratching my naked back in the night heat.

The street separating us now is busier than the others. Cars stream between us. I point at my ear with the Bluetooth receiver implanted inside.

He puts the transmitter up to his mouth. My heart is beating faster than ever. This is it. This is me putting my head on the chopping block.

He can say “Go home.” That’s all he needs to do. He can just tell me to go and I will. That’s the bargain. That’s the agreement. I always keep my agreements.

He raises the transmitter to his mouth.

I clench my teeth, my eyes wide open. I’m breathing hard, my hands locked behind me.

I will do whatever he says, I remind myself, I will do whatever he says.

Even if he tells me to go home.

He’s about to speak, his face still locked in that frozen visage and half-smile. Then he laughs, turns sideways, raises the transmitter up to his mouth and says . . .

“Let’s play.”

I nod my head.

Oh my God!

Yes! The fire starts anew down below. He’s playing. I’ve gotten him to play! That was the hardest step.

“You’re a very dirty girl,” he says, “you’re naked, aren’t you?”

Wow, kudos to Karl Werz. Even the great Lukas Thorn can’t really tell that I’m naked.

“You realize what you’ve set yourself up for? You’re going to have to prove that to me, you know.”

I nod.

“You’re going to have to prove that to me in public.”

Oh God! The very thought sends me into delirium. Yes, I will. Yes, I’ll do anything. In front of anybody. To please you. Yes, I will. I so want you. I so want you to tell me to do horribly nasty things in front of other people. I so will do anything you ask. All you have to do is command me.

Just command me.

“I don’t know how you’re going to prove this to me yet, dirty girl, but I’ll figure it out soon.” He pauses, thinking about how to continue. “Drop to your knees.”

I don’t hesitate. On a busy street in front of a crowd of people, I drop to my knees.

“Place your hands behind your back like they’re bound. For all intents and purposes, they are bound. In your mind, I want you to feel the ropes that bind you. Can you feel them? Acknowledge me, dirty girl.”

I nod yes.

“Open your mouth wide,” he says. “Like you’re expecting a huge cock to be shoved down your throat at any moment and you so want it.”

I open my mouth wide.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

I nod.

“You love cock slamming into the back of your throat, don’t you?”

I nod.

Still wondering what his looks like, freed from the tight black denim that I’ve only experienced from him.

I nod and try to stretch my mouth open even more.

“Spread your legs,” he says, leaning on the very post that I did just a few minutes ago.

I spread my legs.

“Get your ass as close to the ground as possible.”

I do. Karl Werz was very clever. He painted many three-dimensional barnacles . . . or whatever the fuck they are . . . around my pussy lips. I’m not even sure if, even with my legs spread this wide on the hard concrete, that anyone can tell my girl is open and free to them.

But a couple of girls do.

“Oh my God,” I hear one of them say, as she drags her boyfriend away before he notices.

An old prude from the same lineage as the woman on the plane scoffs and says “Oh my!” dragging her clueless husband who stares at me open-mouthed.

“This will now be known as the Service Position,” says Lukas Thorn. “Nod to acknowledge.”

I nod.

“Oh, you’re delightful. Look at that wide open pussy. Just waiting to get eaten. And does it ever want to get eaten!”

Grrrrrrrrr. This man has no idea! No fucking idea how much this pussy needs to get eaten and stuffed to its fucking walls!

At that moment, out of the corner of my eye I see a police officer, moving toward me.

“Run!” says Lukas Thorn.

I leap up and start running.

“No, not that way! Left!”

I turn around and go left.

“There is a sandwich shop to the right of you. Duck into it and sit at a table. Put your head down like you’re eating a sandwich.”

I do exactly as he says. The police officer walks past me, looking around.

“Stay there,” says Lukas Thorn.

Soon I see him slowly walking past me. Without looking, he raises the transmitter and says, “Up. You haven’t proven to me that you’re naked yet.”

I leap up, out of the sandwich shop, and back over to the street.

“Stop,” he says. “Turn left.”

I’m not sure where he went. I don’t see him, but he must be able to see me. I follow his command.

“Turn right onto the cobblestone path.”

I’m heading into a dark alley, away from people. I trust that he knows where he’s leading me. Somehow I just know he wouldn’t hurt me.

“There is a door in the building to your right. It’s on a hinge. Just push it. It will open.”

How does he know this?

I do as I’m told. Sure enough, the ancient door swings open loudly on its squeaky hinge.

“Now, go to the other side of the room, assume Service Position, and await further commands.”

I do as I’m told, dropping to my knees on the hard concrete.