Cherrypieprod

What if....?

2010-12-29T12:02:00.000-08:00

What if you are home watching the news and see a report about an escaped convict. The man is a serial rapist who has tortured, maimed and even killed some women during his crime spree. You go to sleep and awaken to find someone breaking into your home. You manage to take the intruder down, only to discover that it is the rapist. Living in a remote area, it will take until morning for someone to reach you. What would you do with hiim/to him?

The Monster

2010-12-17T10:56:00.001-08:00

The harsh drumming of rain on the roof, was not lulling the way that Katalina was expecting. It sounded more like paintball pellets bludgeoning the house with ferocious force. A thunderous rip caused her to jump expectantly, jolting her completely awake. There hadn’t been rain in almost six months. Tonight was the night that the skies had decided to open up. Sighing heavily, she threw her legs over the side of the bed to sit up. She watched the sheets of rain run down the window, mesmerized momentarily. Slipping into her fleece slippers, she padded down the hall to her daughters’ room. Sylvan, 14, and Zoe 16. She knew they knew better than to sneak out, but she still could never be too cautious. Since the government had instituted martial law, it was no longer safe for a young girl out on the streets after curfew. Anything could happen. They could be murdered, raped, or sold into sex slavery. The latter was the more probable these days. With the number of young uninfected girls dwindling by the day, Kat kept a close watch on her girls. You could never be too safe.

Peering in to the room, she saw the familiar lumps under the blanket stir slightly at the sound of the door opening. She exhaled gratefully. She didn’t even notice that she had been holding her breath expectantly. Clunking back down the hall she settled in in front of the t.v with a stale cup of cold coffee she had plucked from the coffeemaker on her way to the den. Flipping thru the channels, she settled on an old National Geographic special. She didn’t even feel her self getting sleepy, let alone fall back in the plush leather cushions, mouth agape. She must have slept this way for quite a while, for she did not hear the rustling coming from beyond the closed sliding door. Soft feel tiptoed down the corridor towards the den. Another pair slipped in to the girls’ room.

Kat was awakened to a plastic bag being slipped over her head. Fear and trepidation suffocated her before the bag did. Slyly sticking her hand underneath the bag, she poked a hole swiftly where her lips would be, all the while flailing, fighting with her aggressor. She felt her back and head being pummeled unmercifully as the attacker fought with all of their might to ensure she would not take another breath of air. Her muffled cries fell on deaf ears. Her legs kicked and twitched angrily. The wild swing of her arm caught the aggressor off guard, sending them careening backwards into the glass coffee table, causing them and the table to crash to the floor. The attacker lay unmoving, blood pooling about their head. She yanked the bag off of her head gratefully, gulping in the air as fast as she could. She fell to her knees, feeling the world go black around her. There was too much for her to live for. The girls. Composing herself, her current scenario started making sense. These were hired Free-Runners. After the government had discovered that some people were resistant to the virus, they started rounding up the misfits to use for their own benefit. These misfits, or Free Runners, were a small group that could scale buildings, cars, walls; anything without making a sound. And here they were. Somehow they had managed to get in to Kat’s sixth floor apartment without using the front door. The reality that was happening all around her was all to consuming. She could hear nothing but her own heartbeat thudding and thumping dangerously against her chest. Struggling to gain her composure, she crawled and clawed her way on the carpeted floor to her daughters’ room. She could make out the faint muffles and stifled screams thru the closed door. Panic kept her moving in the direction of their room. She had to get to them. As she reached up to punch in the keycode of their bedroom, she felt a sharp pull on her ankle that dragged her back about four feet. She let out a whoosh of air as she was rolled over on to her back to face her attacker.

He looked to be no more than fifteen or sixteen. But something in his eyes said that he had seen and felt far beyond his years. A jagged scar adorned the right side of his cheek. It looked as though at some point someone had opened his entire cheek. Kat blinked stupidly at this young boy standing over her. She couldn’t believe that someone so young had so much venom and seething desire to destroy her and her girls. Using the strength she had left, she cocked her heel back, landing a firm kick squarely in his groin. Groaning and writhing in pain, he clutched desperately at his bruised jewels. He fell sideways, attempting to curl up in the fetal position. On his way down, he knocked his head, once again, this time incapacitating him. Scrambling with the keypad, she was finally able to swing it open. Just as she was about to crawl over the threshold, she caught a glimpse of Sylvan as one of the intruders slung her over his shoulder. The look of desperation in Syl’s eyes was too much for Kat to bear. Summoning all of her energy, she hoisted herself to her feet, launched in full attack. She screamed and pounded on the man that held Syl with all of her might. He swatted at her carelessly, as though she were a mere fruit fly in a dense jungle, sprawling her on the floor. She gurgled in frustration, ripping at the flesh of his ankles and calves. Hefting a large work boot, he stomped on her legs over and over again, planting a few kicks firmly on her calves. She let out a cry of pain, not fully comprehending what was really going on. He kept stomping on her while he held the screaming, flailing Syl over his shoulder. Kat scanned the room thru the rain of stomps to see where Zoe was. She was no where to be found. Hopefully she had found solace in the closet. Kat was still unsure as to how many of these Free Runners were actually in her house. Rolling over on her side, she kicked the man in his Achilles, hoping to topple him.

He teetered dangerously. Syl seeing a window of opportunity, flung her fists hotly, intent on pounding her way to freedom. This motion threw him further off kilter. He went down hard, dropping Syl along the way. She rolled to the side and out of harm’s way. The attacker now lay atop Kat’s severely bruised calves, injured and even angrier than a homeless hornet. Just then a voice from the doorway boomed, bringing the deafening silence to an end.

“Enough! Grab the little one and find the other girl. Leave the mother to me.” A squat man, appearing to be no more than twenty, strode across the room and leaned down to whisper in Kat’s ear.

“We’re going to have fun with your little one. Untouched and Uninfected? I hope she screams loud enough so you can hear.” He slid his slimy serpent like tongue in her ear, flicking suggestively. She squirmed away in repulsion. Pulling himself back up to his full height, he towered over her, sneering sadistically.

“By the way I’m Bonner.” And with a single blow he rendered her unconscious.

***********************************************************************************************

Kendall sat on the edge of his plastic pod confused by the surrel dream he had just had. A warmth much like euphoria overcame him. He wallowed in the feeling that swept over his form. This dream was not like any other. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn that it had actually happened. Some event that was almost tangible tangled itself in front of his psyche. He didn’t remember much that happened, being that he was blasted out of his mind on a continuous basis. With the daily concoction of Jack and Coke, four lines of cocaine and the little purple pill everyone in the city called a “zing”. There wasn’t a day he wasn’t flying high. He fought desperately to try to remember every detail of the dream.

“Wheredaya think your going sexy lady!!!” Swaying, he managed to get spittle on her check. She wiped discretely, smiling politely. He grinned foolishly.

“What’s your name?” He leaned lazily against the wall, placing his right forearm above her head for support.

“Hannah. Nice to meet you.” She extended her hand. He took it eagerly, engulfing it in his clamminess. They stood this way, conversating about this or that, for some time. After a few hours, she asked him to walk her to her room since the glider was being worked on. His head bobbed foolishly in agreement. Blushing, she gathered her outerwear and led him across campus.

They walked in the dense foggy autumn weather, strolling casually. Kendall was a regular chatterbox tonight. This was so unlike him. Usually he did his drug routine, and sat in a dark corner brooding about how fat the newest wannabe supermodel would be in ten years. Tonight was different.

His pulse quickened as they neared her dorm. Coyly, she coaxed him upstairs, although not much coaxing was needed. He followed like a lovesick puppy dog up the stairs. As she jiggled the keys in the door, he leaned in to kiss the nape of her neck. Her whole body trembled, causing her to drop the keys altogether. Fumbling, she picked them up again, only to end up in his overbearing embrace. His mouth devoured hers. Instinctively she fought, and then slowly allowed herself to become absorbed by his manliness. Breaking away, she shoved the key into the door and pushed hard, tumbling slightly. His hands roamed her breasts freely, pinching and pulling at her nipples. Falling into the bed, his hands caressed her everywhere. Rubbing at her panties, he slipped his finger in through the side, lingering just above her clit. Her breath caught in her throat as he waited expectantly for him to plunge his fingers deep into her sweet spot. She thrust her hips upwards, mocking him. From inside her panties, he ripped them off and outward. Her eyes became wide with alarm. Sliding down, he clamped his mouth over her pubis, sucking and licking her vaginal lips hungrily. She squirmed with delight. He used his tongue like a spear, poking and prodding that sweet spot over and over again until he felt her creamy warmth fill his mouth. She moaned and shuddered slightly. Rubbing her erect nipples, she waited for him to make a move. Getting up, he wiped her juice from his mouth and unzipped his pants, allowing his monstrous manhood to fall out not so casually from its home. A look of fear, amazement and admiration washed her face. Propping her legs open missionary style, she splayed her pinkness, exposing her depths. He stroked himself, allowing it to grow and move in his hands. He stroked faster and faster as he watched her play with her lips, teasing and taunting him. Not being able to withstand the pressure, he leapt on her, clumsily trying to shove his dick into her. Wiggling beneath him, she tried to move herself into position. Finally finding the right spot, he let the whole length of his penis slide deep into her. She screamed in agony. He left it as deep as it could go. Small beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry. You’re too big.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. He drew his dick back, only to drive it all the way in again. She yelped painfully. Tears were beginning to form.

“Please don’t. It hurts.” She pushed his chest as hard as she could. Her eyes pleaded helplessly. Ken grinned stupidly from within his fog of inebriation. She must have begged for hours as he bucked and pounded that sweet virgin pussy. Crying, begging, pleading, threatening, nothing worked. He continued to fuck her over and over again. Finally, he began to pound at record speed, his cock widening and lengthening the faster his rhythm went. With one finally thrust, he felt as though he had shot every ounce of cum he had ever produced into this juvenile girl. Coming out of his trance, he looked down at his victim; the crying, blubbering mess of a woman. Confused, he rolled off of her, looking down at the mess he made. There was a mixture of semen, and some darker fluid. ‘Blood’, he realized with growing uneasiness. He put his pants back on uncertainly. Hannah made no attempt to move or cover up. She had rolled over, exposing her perfectly sculpted, yoga ass, as she lay with her head buried deep into the pillow. Something stirred in him from below. He couldn’t believe that the sight of her ass, even after injecting her with everything that he had, he still wanted to spread those cheeks and go to town again. He thought for a moment. She was already upset to begin with and would probably snitch anyway. So why not? He dropped trough again, mounting her. Her body became rigid again, as did his manhood. He slapped her ass over and again with his hands and his penis. Finally getting the right stiffness, he slowly slid his monster into her anus. Instantly he felt the warmth and tightness give him a surge. He didn’t want to be gentle with this. He wanted to feel the head rush that accompanied the act. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that she had poked her ass out further to take more of the dick. But he knew that couldn’t be possible, she was still crying and shuddering beneath him. Just a few more thrusts, and he would be…every blood cell and capsule seemed to have come to the surface. He could see brilliant colors that he had never seen before dance from behind his lids. He gripped her waist hungrily, making sure that her ass stayed where it was until he stopped pulsing.

He had never in all of his life cum the way that he had tonight. Exhausted, he rolled off of her and on to the floor. She had finally stopped making noise, and now only stared out into space, lost. Tugging his pants back on, he headed to the door, glancing briefly over his shoulder. After a quick decision, he went back over to the bed, leaning in to her ear.

“I want some more.” He rubbed her ass lovingly, leaning down to kiss both of her buttocks. He nibbled and kissed suggestively. Hannah felt her vaginal walls fluxuate the further his mouth went towards her center. His tongue found her vagina again, and he went back to sucking despite the mess that he had made earlier. With a finally kiss, his lips were back at her ear.

“I’ll be back. I want you ass up face down.” He slurred seductively, as he smacked her ass with finality, causing it to shake reflexively. She groaned slightly. He staggered down the hall and out into the cool fall air. He fell into the grass, halfway across campus. He lay there, looking up at the stars hopelessly. After a few moments, he couldn’t remember anything more than what his name was. He drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken by the timed sprinklers.

Waking with a start, he tried to remember how he got here. His body ached as he pulled himself into a standing position. He stretched lethargically, yawning all the while. He sauntered over to his dorm room to get ready for class. That was all he could remember. Kendall was sure that there was more to the dream then he could remember at the moment, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He let the eerie felling drop off. He had more important things to think about right now.

Several years later……………….

Today was the day. He was going to ask his girlfriend, Brea Harris, of 6 years to marry him after having been harassed for the last five. He had no doubt as to what her answer would be. They were both ready to take the huge leap, at least now he was. She had been ready for years. He gazed out of the window groggily, delirious with happiness. He could almost smell the sweet morning dew wafting thru the cracked window. He closed his eyes and let the moment wash over him. A nest of birds nearby seemed to sing their approval. He gazed over longingly at Brea. She was so angelic. Her auburn hair laid about the pillow, as though a halo. Her skin, still bronzed from their recent trip to the French Rivera, accentuated her rose colored lips. Slowly peeling back the sheet, he devoured her body visually. Realizing that he was awakening the dragon below, he diverted his attention back to the mission at hand. He wanted to ravage her right here, right now, but there would be time later when he had her in their honeymoon suite. He was going to fly her to Paris and marry her tonight; as long as everything went according to plan. Slipping into yesterdays outfit of holey jeans, torn rock t-shirt and chuck taylors’, he slipped out of the back door, careful to not let the clicking of the lock awake her. He strolled down the driveway to his car, climbing behind the wheel; he fiddled with the radio dials settling on a local rock station. A band named WiperZ filled the airwaves with their promise of never-ending change and political tyranny. He gunned the Mercedes engine and roared down the winding road, headed for the expressway back into Manhattan. As he neared the tunnel, he noticed a car on the side of the road with one of the tires off. Being the Samaritan that he was, he pulled over to offer his assistance. Pulling in behind the VW, he noticed the driver was a petite Spanish looking woman, resembling Selma Hayek. She pushed her bosom out for effect, not that she needed to at this stage of the game. She smiled charismatically at him, showing off her thousands of dollars in dental work. He smiled back as he climbed out of his car. He was reminded of a not so distant memory at a club in the city.

“…Come on dude. Just one drink. You can’t tell me that your ball and chain will have a problem with you being a few minutes late?” Phillip eyed Ken incredulously. Ken laughed jovially. He considered his options for a minute before deciding to join his friend. Slapping him on the back, Edward ushered him into his beat up Mustang. Speeding along the expressway, they joked about Phillip’s countless conquests.

“I have this hot one, Hannah, that slut from college. Remember her? We’re going to meet her and her girlfriend at Houston’s.” He grinned devilishly. Ken shook his heady emphatically. There was another feeling brewing just below the surface that he couldn’t quite place. Hannah….He knew the name, but he wasn’t sure why.

“No can do. You know that I’m dating Brea now. I don’t want to get myself into anything that I can’t handle right now.” Philip kept speeding, avoiding several potholes along the way. They pulled up in front of a swank club near Rockefeller Center. The valet ran to the car hurriedly. Philip tossed him the keys, strolling in the entrance. Ken trailed unhappily.

The smells were intense in this place. It smelled of soft leather, honeysuckle tea, and jasmine. Ken inhaled deeply. He wanted to remember that smell forever. He decided then that he would find Brea some perfume that reminded him of this moment. A tap on his shoulder from the present, brought him reeling back to reality.

She was the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen in his life. With her translucent olive skin, dimples, wavy auburn hair, and killer smile, he was at her mercy. There was something familiar about her that he just couldn’t put his finger on.

“What seems to be the trouble?” He strolled over confidently.

“I’m not too sure. Something happened with the tire, so I tried to fix it because I thought maybe the air pressure was too low. But there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it. What can I do?” Her voice was saccharine to Ken’s ears. That was one of the reasons that he loved Brea. She was the real deal. No Park Avenue Princess there. He knelt down to get a better view of the tire. He noticed the slightest slit along the base.

“It looks like you need a new tire. You have a slit in it. We can take the tire to a tire store so they can patch it, or you can just get a new one. I can give you a lift if you want.” He motioned at his car a few feet away. She glanced over his shoulder, at her company’s car. He would do.

“That would be great. Thank you so much for stopping. I’m Hannah Belle.” She extended her hand to him, he shook it limply.

They both got into the roadster, heading towards Twelfth Avenue. She hummed a soft tune to herself as they drove. He watched her from the corner of his eye. All he had to do was drop her off at the closest tire shop, and then he could be on his way. Pulling into the parking lot, he noticed that the gates were drawn, and the lights were off. Checking his watch, it was only ten am. Why wouldn’t they be open? He tried peering inside to get a better look. He strolled back to the car confused.

“They seem to be all closed up. Let’s try another one down the block.” He revved and sped off to the next spot.

That too seemed to be closed. Hannah motioned him back. He strode over to the passenger side.

“Don’t worry about the tire. I think it’s one of those federal holidays today. If you can just take me to my apartment over on Morton Street, that would be great. My brother used to be a mechanic, so I’m sure he’ll know what to do.” She smiled sweetly again. Shrugging, they sped off in the direction of her home.

Stopping in front of a dilapidated building, Hannah turned, offering her hand once again.

“It was very nice to meet you Mr.; I didn’t catch your name.” He took her hand and shook it more firmly this time.

“I’m Ken. Nice to have met you. I hope everything works out.” He nodded politely.

“Why don’t you come up for a cup of coffee, or a tequila sunrise? What ever your poison may be.” She winked mischievously. He smiled in spite of himself. Hesitating for only a moment, he parked the car soundlessly. She climbed out first, heading to the front door. He wasn’t too far behind. She pressed a button on the intercom. There was a crackle and a male voice.

“Bonner, its Hannah. Let me in.” There was silence, and a buzz. She pushed the heavy door with her shoulder, heading up the dark staircase. The stairs seemed to wind and go on forever, even though there were only six flights. She turned right on the sixth landing and headed to the first door. He pushed lightly, and the door gave. Ken surveyed his surroundings.

This had to be the darkest, drabbest place he had been in a long time. There were huge holes in the walls, exposing the decaying plaster, roaches and rodents. The short circuited fluorescent light from overhead seemed to be the nexus of a roach motel. A small mouse scuttled down the steps, obviously scared by the intrusion. He remembered his “cocaine” days. This was the sort of place he would have frequented if he had needed a fix. He shuddered slightly. Stepping thru the doorway, he realized that the home didn’t match the building in the least bit. There were rainbows and bright splashes of color everywhere. He caught a picture of a little girl dressed in ballerina garb in the hallway. He followed her to the end of the hallway and in to the kitchen. She started pulling glasses and bottles from cabinets.

“So tell me about yourself Ken. Where are you from?” She asked curiously. She continued making her concoction as they talked.

“I live just across the water in Jersey with my girlfriend. And you?”

“Now did you hear me ask if you were single? A little presumptuous aren’t we?” She winked at him, laughing playfully. He chuckled along with her. She handed him a drink, he took it gratefully. As he chugged his drink, he noticed that she had prepared four glasses. But there were only three people in the house, and he hadn’t even seen the third person as of yet. His brow furrowed with concern.

“Are we having company?” He was only half joking. Before he could wrap his mind around the situation, he felt sharp blows rain down on his back and head. The blows wouldn’t stop. He felt his body being beat into submission. He gasped and gurgled helplessly. Sliding to the floor, he locked eyes with Hannah. She stood motionless, watching with intrigue. He felt himself slip from consciousness, and he was gone. He lay sprawled on the shiny linoleum floor, the remnants of his drink spilt about him. She crept over to him cautiously. Leaning down, she felt for a pulse. Finding one, she grinned happily.

“Bonner, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Help me carry him into the bedroom.” Hannah grabbed his legs, Bonner his upper body. Plopping him down on the plush bed, she began stripping him hungrily. She took her time undoing his pants. Pulling them down slowly, she let her eyes wash over his genitals. He was massive. Bonner watched his sister hatefully. Hannah never noticed her brother leave, nor did she hear the engine as he started Ken’s car and drove off

She continued to watch her prey, enamored by the beauty of his penis.

Grabbing scarves, socks, and anything else that she could find, she bound him to the bed. Taking more precaution aybe more than she should have. But she couldn’t be too careful. Climbing off of him, she went to the living room and turned on her favorite cd, by The Zombie Girls. Turning up the volume as loud as it would go, she went back to her bedroom, undressing as she went along. She went and lay down in the bed next to Ken., stroking his chest lovingly. She was waiting for him to arise on his own. She didn’t like to rush the process. It was better for him to come to on his own accord. After a while, she dozed off, only to be awakened by Ken’s howling. Shoving her breast in his mouth hoping he would suckle, she struggled to reach the duct tape on the side of the bed. She hadn’t expected him to scream so early on. Finally successful, she yanked a piece off. She noticed that he was now suckling, just as she had intended. There was not a straight man on the face of the earth that would say no to a mouth full of tittie. She savored his mouth fully enclosed around her breast. She felt the moistness between her thighs oozing. She saw his manhood rise by the second. He was almost ready. She let him enjoy the moment before the intensity began. Yanking her breast from his mouth’s grasp, she went to stand at the foot of the bed, mentally preparing the next phase. He watched her wide eyed. She reached under the bed and extracted what looked like a dildo. His eyes got wider. She grinned crazily.

“O Mr. Kendall, I have something to show you.” With that she pounced, ramming the unlubricated dildo in his ass. His muffled screams were no match for the electronica playing over the speakers. Tears of anguish, pain, guilt, and shame streamed down his face. He writhed in vain. The more pain he seemed to be in, the deeper she would shove the dildo. This went on for what seemed an eternity. Not being able to control himself or his bowels, he released. There was a gush of shit and blood that poured from his anus onto the bed. She stopped momentarily to watch. Becoming excited, she reached down and smeared the mess with a hand, rubbing the remnants on his chest and face. He gagged reflexively. She smacked him hard against his cheek, leaving a trail of feces.

“Remember me baby? You had fun fucking me when I didn’t want it. Now its my turn!”

He tried again in vain to break free from her clutches. This bitch was beyond crazy. Now completely naked, she climbed on top of his urgent manhood. She knew he wanted this. He had been hard since the moment that he met her, and she had noticed. The undeniable bulge in his pants had to be Hannah’s. She bucked and rode him. This had a momentary calming effect. Every time he would lift his pelvis to thrust, she would punch him in the mouth. Giving up, he allowed her to fuck the shit out of him, literally and figuratively. As she climaxed, she clawed and ripped at the flesh on his chest. She sat atop the still hardened muscle, breathing unevenly. The need to cum being too great, he risked the blows of her fist. He began to pound her unmercifully. She groaned and screamed with desire. She felt him explode and shudder as he came, his eyes rolling in to the back of his head dramatically. She looked down at him with disgust. Climbing off of him, she saw the mixture of their love juice sliding out of her cunt. Sticking her fingers inside her, she extracted them, drenched in juice. Pulling back the tape on his mouth, she traced his lips with juicy fingers. He watched her apprehensively, sucking on her fingers hungrily. She let him for a bit before she yanked her hand back, replacing the tape. She heard the front door open just then. In a panic, she threw her clothes back on haphazardly, meeting Bonner in the kitchen.

“Where did you go?” She asked quizzically as she adjusted herself.

“Where the hell do you think? I went to go get your fucking car and leave his there. We still do have to cover our asses. Are you done fucking?” He asked hatefully. She smiled coyly.

“It’s your turn bro. I loosened up the ass for you.” She giggled playfully. He glared at her, skulking off to the bedroom in search of their new playmate.

The best part of this set up was that Hannah and Bonner were not really brother and sister. They met while living with a foster parent. Hannah was sixteen, Bonner almost sixteen. They became fast friends. They went everywhere and did everything together. Trauma has a funny way of affecting kids. On Hannah’s eighteenth birthday, Evelyn, their saintly foster mother was stabbed to death by one of the more wayward kids that she refused to give up on. The state separated all of them, divvying them up amongst six different families. Hannah had fared far better than Bonner had. He went to jail shortly after the tragedy for trying to choke a guy that cut him off on the road.

Hannah’s real name was Danica Samuels. She had been born to Grant Samuels and Vivian Hummel. They were a pretty average couple. Cocktails and cards on Thursdays, fish on Fridays, pot roast on Sunday. You would never have known that they were international drug smugglers for some king pin in Japan named Tzu. Having skimmed the top noticeably too much this time, Tzu sent in his reinforcements. Vivian had just dropped seven year old Danica off at school a few miles away from their home. As she pulled into the garage, she noticed that the door leading into the house was agape. Scrunching up her face, she shut the car off and trudged in, prepared to let Grant have it. The moment she stepped thru the door, she knew she had made a mistake. An asian man of great proportions towered over her, daring her to move or speak. His sneering grin told Vivian everything that she needed to know. They had taken too much this time. Three quarters of a million too much. He swatted her like a pesky fly, causing her to careen backwards into the wall. Sliding down, she scrambled on the floor to get away. He gave her a swift quick, sending her sprawling. She heard a gurgle in the bathroom. If she could get in there, she could lock the door and get out the window and in to the woods. She dragged her body along the hardwood floor. As she poked her head into the bathroom, the door opened wider and bam! Darkness enclosed her as she realized what was happening. He was going to beat this door into her head. He never relented. The dent that he had created just below the temple began to seep grayish fluid. The gurgle in the bathroom had been Grant. He was sitting head first in the toilet unconscious. Grant was finished in the same fashion as his wife, but only with the toilet seat. Pleased with himself, the assailant left the pristine house quietly. They wouldn’t be a problem ever again. Shortly after that incident, Danica went to live with her grandparents in Iowa. They were old, decrepit and smelled of Ben gay and hard boiled eggs. At the age of ten, she came home to find her grandparents dead in the garage from carbon monoxide poisoning. She was remanded to the state and put into foster care. She jumped from home to home needlessly. She lucked out when she met Evelyn Baez. She loved Danica like her own daughter. After Evelyn’s death, Danica moved back to Long Island to go the college both her parents had gone to. She hoped she’d be able to put the dark clouds behind her. But then the rape had happened. And now here they were. Danica had kept such close tabs on Kendall; she thought for sure he’d know it was her. But she realized when he was with his skank; he didn’t pay attention to any other woman. So she was free to watch and scope as openly as she chose. She had been watching him everyday for almost seven years. And today had been the day. The realization that her bountiful booty was now here excited her once again. She picked up the phone and started dialing.

“Get over here now if you want some of the action.” She hung up, not saying another word.

Back in the bedroom….

Ken still lay bound to the bed. His heart raced and pounded as he saw Bonner approach him. Bonner’s dick was equally as big and as hard as his own. Bonner stripped, stroking his penis as he approached the bed. Climbing on top of Ken, he put his dick in his face, softly slapping him with the head. Ken began his plight to break free all over again. Bonner never hit him. Sliding down in between his thighs, he began to nibble on his anus lovingly. Still caked with shit and hemoglobin, he continued slurping happily. Finally having had enough, he slowly slid his penis into Ken’s softened anus. Ken groaned in pain, tightening his walls. Bonner was done within seconds. Ken felt a rush of thick fluid, as Bonner slumped over his body drained. Hannah came up behind him just then.

“Are you done with him yet? Garvin just got here. He wants some of that ass too.” Bonner slid off of Ken and on to the floor. She jokingly touched Ken’s anus. He flinched protectively. He had no more tears to cry since his tear ducts had dried out. Another figure appeared in the doorway. The smallest gay man he had ever seen hopped up on the bed. Dressed to nines in a deep plum velour sweat suit and shiny patent leather shoes. He eyed Kendall hungrily.

“I want to suck his dick. Where are the condoms?” He glanced around looking for the sex staple. Plucking one off of the night stand, he slid it on Ken with ease. He took the whole penis in one fluid motion. Sucking and lapping at his penis and balls, Ken felt himself become aroused. Panic rose in his chest. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t gay. So why was he turned on? Bonner and Hannah stood back, watching the show. Garvin ripped the condom off, wiping the dick clean with a towel he found. He went back to his oral stimulation.

“I want you to cum in my mouth. And you better cum a lot.” His mouth engulfed Ken’s penis once again. Not being able to fight it much more, he came, and hard. Garvin’s choked slightly on Ken’s cum. He swallowed like a true champ. Leaning back, he wiped his mouth slowly.

“Now this was totally worth $500. No one has done that in a long time.” He watched Ken closely tracing his muscles in his abs.

“You shouldn’t have let him cum in your mouth. Don’t come back to us in a few days and tell us he gave you the monster…” He dismissed her thoughts with a wave of the hand.

“How much more to keep him indefinitely?” He reached into his pocket and extracted his check book from his back pocket. Hannah shook her head defiantly.

“He’s not for sale. We have to let him go. You know the rules. You can come back tomorrow if you want, but it will cost you another $500. We have to let him go by tomorrow night. We don’t want our Casanova to be reported as missing now do we?” The trio left Ken.

He lay in the bed feeling dirty and used. He had never contemplated having a gay experience, and now he had had not one, but two experiences all within the same day. He thought over how this whole scenario could have played out differently. He should have fucked his fiancé like he had wanted to. Then he would have missed Hannah altogether. He reminisced over what could have been or what should be. Then he remembered Hannah saying that they had to let him go by tomorrow night. So all he had to do was hang in there until then. That’s if they didn’t kill him first.

The next morning…..

Ken awoke, still lying in the apartment alone. He had not seen or heard from his captors since their molestation the night before. He had to urinate so badly, but there was no where for him to go but on him. Just then the front door opened. Apprehension seized him. Heavy footsteps could be heard walking towards the bedroom. A guy, roughly in his late thirties, early forties popped his head in. He smiled, and then did a double take. Fear crept onto his slightly silvered face. He ripped the tape off of Ken’s mouth.

‘O my God! How did this happen? How did you get into my house?” He began untying him hurriedly.

“Hannah and Bonner. And some guy named Garvin. You have to help me get out of here. They are going to kill me if you let them. Please help me!” His voice was hoarse from all of the attempted screaming and groaning.

“I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about. My wife and I are just getting back from vacation. How long have you been here?” Finally untying the last knot, he sat on the bed next to his savior uncertain. Scanning for his clothes, he put them on at lightening speed. Just then the Mrs. appeared with drinks in hand, letting them clatter to the polished floor when she saw their new companion. She stood frozen in fear. The man put his hand up, to caution his wife.

“Nina call the police. I think he may need an ambulance too.” The man, Edwin, looked at Kendall with deep concern. Kendall stood staring out the window shivering, as his arm tried to find its home in his rumpled shirt. Nina stepped behind him, helping him shrug into his shirt.

Edwin left the room in search of the phone. He found it next to the computer, which happened to be on. In the technology port was a chip still connected to the computer. He tried to wrap his mind around what he was seeing. It looked to be a streaming video, of his guest. He could see a young woman beneath him, squirming and fighting his weight. It only took a few seconds to realize what he was seeing. He was watching this man rape a woman. The white rage that blustered beneath the surface, begged to be released. Whirling madly, he picked up the phone and dialed 911. He put the receiver down and went to the kitchen, grabbing a butcher knife from the drawer. Cautiously, he eased himself down the hallway towards their bedroom. He pricked his ears up expectantly, but there was no sound. Peeking around the door, he waved at Nina. He motioned her over. She looked back at Kendall, who was still looking out the window, and lurched towards to the door and her waiting husband. The commotion stirred Kendall out of his state. He looked at them confused. Now fully dressed, he walked past them in a trance, and out of the apartment. The couple stood huddled against the wall. They listened to his footsteps as he retreated from their lives.

Kendall let the air wash over him. He breathed in deeply, reveling in the moment. He closed his eyes for a minute and waited for something to take the feeling that he was now experiencing away. But it was still there. It was deep in the pit of his stomach. And there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to get home to Brea. He trotted slowly, then a gait, then a steady run towards Broadway. He savored the wind as he pounded the pavement. Visions of Brea danced behind his lids as he tried to escape himself and what had just been done to him. Flashes of Bonner between his legs, sent his stomach plummeting to his knees. He ran faster. Cars whizzing and blaring past him were oblivious to the inner turmoil and pain this man was now feeling. Pounding the pavement unmercifully, he fought the bile that was threatening to rise at any given moment. Just a few more blocks.

Chapter 2

Danica remembered that horrible incident with great clarity. The smells and sounds associated came flooding back as she lingered in the memory.

The sun shone so brightly, she needed her shades today. Pulling them from her knock-off purse, she pushed them up on her bridge daintily. She knew that Edward Collins was watching as usual. He seemed to have become enamored with her over the last semester or two. He always seemed to be underfoot, or close by. He was cute enough, but that wasn’t where her interest lie. She wanted Kendall, Edward’s best friend more than she has ever wanted anything in her life. And she would have him no matter what.

Watching his back walk out of her room, she breathed for the first time since he had been there. She sat on the edge of the bed for several long minutes. Controlling her breathing, she cleared her head and feelings. Glancing over at the top of the door, she watched the red light blink repeatedly. Rising slowly, she walked over, plucking the hand-held camcorder from the top of the door. Sniffling softly, she pushed the “rewind” button. She watched the horror in backwards fast motion, and forward slow motion. Standing in that very spot, she watched the video at least twenty times before shutting the camera off. Connecting the camera to her laptop, she uploaded the video into her video player. Turning on her web cam, she began the stream of the video. Halfway thru the upload, she paused it. There had to be a better way to do this. She wanted to make sure that this uber-priviledged punk knew that she was a force not to be reckoned with. Heading to her bathroom, she plucked a tiny bottle from the top shelf.

Turning the bottle over and over in her hands, she contemplated the future. She could put the bottle back, and lead one way of life. Or she could use the bottle, and change her future and maybe someone else’s also forever. After a split second decision, she closed the medicine cabinet and headed towards her bed. She shrugged her now tattered clothes back on, with bottle still in hand. Glancing out of the window, she saw Kendall staggering and swaying as he walked. His body finally giving in, he fell crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. She held her breath as she watched. He never stirred or moved. Seeing her window of opportunity, she raced out of the building, and into the night. She pulled the hood from her hoodie, just below her eyes to add anonymity. Not that she needed to. At this time of the morning no one was ever out and about. She would be alone for some time. At least she hoped she would be. Scampering across the lawn, she stopped short right next to him. Taking a final look around, she knelt down. Pinching his nose, she tilted his head back and opened his mouth. She poured the contents of the liquid down his throat. Seeing him gulp, she was satisfied. Gamma Hydroxybutric acid, the infamous date rape drug, had done its job.

Sweat and trickles of shame, streamed down Danica’s face as she scrambled to put some distance between her, and her crime. She watched Bonner out of the corner of her eye. He still seemed so calm and composed. How is it that nothing that they ever did bothered him? Leaning back in the leather bucket seat, he plucked a cancer stick from his coat and toked away. Gagging reflexively, she rolled the windows, hoping to get the dirty air out as fast as possible.

“Why do you always have to smoke that shit in my car? Why? You know I hate it!” She poked her lip out angrily. Glancing over, he smirked. Sighing, she gunned the engine and sped off in the direction of New Jersey. Luckily, she had managed to pluck Kendall’s wallet out of his pants while he wasn’t looking. She thumbed through the pictures and credit cards, finding what she was looking for. Staring at the driver’s license, she realized that she could have loved him in a different time and place. If, he hadn’t raped her. And that was a big IF. But in fact he had, and here she was dealing with the shell that he had left.

Beachy-by Cherry Lynn Thomas

2010-12-09T08:48:00.001-08:00

The bright day was fresh and clean by the beach. She had been dreaming of the beach for the last few weeks, but with work she just hadn't had time. She could smell the crispness of the air, the feel of the coastal breeze on her delicate skin. She let her senses enjoy this bout of sensory déjà. Having finished the week of work for the next two weeks, she decided today was the day. Hopping happily from bed into the shower, she hummed a soft melody, lightening her spirit further. Readying herself in a flowy white, summer dress, she headed to the kitchen to pack her picnic basket on the kitchen counter. She pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge as well as assorted cheeses, some rosemary foccacia bread, and some juicy red grapes. Her mouth watered at her coming feast. She popped a few grapes greedily and closed the basket. Grabbing her straw hat and beach towel from the front closet she headed to her car. She paused for a moment as the warm, welcoming sun gazed down on her freshly scrubbed skin. There was something about clean skin and the sun. It just made her feel good. Leaning in the car she pressed a button and watched the top on her Roadster go down slowly. She was in no rush. Climbing in with her beach gear, she turned the radio to a sultry jazz station. Humming along, she drove down the rocky coast to a more secluded section of the beach. After half an hour of amazing scenery, she could take it no more and parked on the shoulder of the road. She scaled the low embankment, pleased with herself. She jogged down the little dune that lead down to the beach. The sand was warm on her cooled soles. She kicked off her sandals and hankered down at the edge of the beach. Shielding her eyes, she scanned the perimeter for any potential gawkers. Seeing none, she stripped her dress exposing her voluptuous breasts. Fanning out her towel she flopped on her soft stomach, facing the beach. She closed her eyes momentarily and smelled the air. She stayed this way for some time before her growling stomach brought her back to reality. Righting herself, she pulled out some smoked Gouda and her bread. She heaped the pre-sliced cheese on her savory bread. Grabbing the wine, she searched for the bottle opener. Not finding it, she used the cheap opener on her keychain. Looking in the basket again she realized she had forgotten a glass also. She would have to chug. She smiled to herself. She plugged in the headphones to her cell phone and let herself get lost in the moment. After her meal she lay down on her back and basked in the warmth. Somehow she had managed to drift off to sleep.

She awoke with a start when she realized she was partially naked. The breeze tickling her now erect nipples. Grabbing for her dress, and not finding it, she began to panic. She realized with mounting fear that all of her stuff was gone. She only had the white lace boy shorts that she had worn beneath her dress. She scanned the area frantically. She was completely alone. Her eyes fell on a small row boat about half a mile out. She stood, shielding her eyes, to get a better view. She saw a dusty looking man, hunched over, pounding at something in the boat, causing it to rock dangerously. Was that blood on his arms? She stared for a minute longer trying to see what she was really seeing. Not being able to make heads or tails, she continued her mission to find her stuff. She had to find it, the car keys were in the pocket of her dress. She walked north along the beach, following the breeze. Maybe a strong wind had come along while she was napping. But she knew the probability was next to nil. Strangely, not a soul was out on such a beautiful day. The once treasured solitude was now creating the mounting fear that welled at the base of her throat. She trudged on, the sand now hot beneath her feet. She rounded a dune and saw a flash of white in a small cave under the rocky dune. She ventured, annoyed that she had probably been duped by some kids. Climbing in, her hands rested on the familiar feel of her satin dress. Feeling further into the cave she withdrew the basket. She reached again, this time for her sandals. Seeming to be caught on something, she tried to give them a good yank. Still unsuccessful she used both hands this time. She felt what seemed like hands wrap themselves around her wrists. Feeling slightly delusional and sun drained, she yanked again. This time she was yanked further into the cave. Her heart racing heart wanted to explode. Positioning her feet against the base of the cave wall, she yanked with all her might, determined to be free. But she was no match; she was yanked again, but this time deep into the recesses of the cave. She screamed a harrowing scream, becoming fainter the deeper she went. Enveloped in blackness she succumbs, losing consciousness.

Slowly coming to, her eyes struggled to adjust to the bright sun beating down on her. Her hand wandered to her throbbing forehead. She felt the ground beneath her sway slightly. What was she lying on? She turned her head slightly and her eyes fell on fiberglass. Where was she? Sitting up on her elbows. She finally saw where she was. In the boat. Looking towards the horizon, she saw her things n the beach right where she'd left them, along with a woman that looked strangely like her, eating from her basket. Looking down she realized she was wearing her white dress again. At the opposite end of the boat sat the dusty looking man she had seen earlier. She scrambled backwards alarmed. Grinning toothlessly, he lunged towards her and began pummeling her body. Gasping for air, she tried to stave him off, to no avail. The blows kept coming. This went on seemingly endlessly. On the beach, the woman having just risen from her nap rose to get a better look at the boat. She stared for a moment before walking north along the beach in search of her clothes.

She kept trying to get a better look at the woman on the beach. But now she could see hundreds of people littered all over the beach. Some were swimming close to the boat and yet did not seem to see her. Was she invisible?

Le Cercle De Vengence-by Cherry Lynn Thomas

2010-12-09T08:46:00.001-08:00

“Did you like raping me? Did you? How does it feel to be the
bitch? You don’t like it do you?” Her anger hit him like hot rockets
of fire. Flying spit smacked his face with immense intensity. Her
eyes were ablaze with the all-consuming crazy lust for blood. She could
taste it on her lips. She needed more now; she liked it way too much.
He sat in a wooden chair, bound and gagged. Only hoping for the off
chance that someone would happen by. However, the chance of that hope was starting to dwindle as
the hours dragged on and on. She looked like a caged animal, pacing to
and fro as she waved the machete wildly mumbling incoherently to
herself. Swallowing the frog in his throat, he prayed for the first time in
his life.
“God please help me. I swear. Just help me.
Help me!!” He whispered as tears welled in his eyes. And for once he
felt what it was to be completely alone.
“What the hell are you babbling about? Did you say something to me?
Do you want “it” again? Do you?” She stood inches from his face,
glowering at her prey. He shook his head emphatically. He had to keep her at bay
for as long as possible. He couldn’t let her smell his fear.
“It” was nothing to be reckoned with. “It” consisted of an intense
beating, hair pulling, a few paper cuts, and lots of rubbing alcohol. All very
psychologically detrimental. But overall, he was dealing quite well
despite the fact that he had, no use of this arms or legs. His mouth
having been gagged, had managed to go numb. Blood trickled from every
orifice opening on his battered body, including new openings she had created with
her machete. He had in fact created a monster. Nevertheless, who could fault
her. Let’s start from the beginning.

March 1981

Evelyn Parks was a prominent real estate broker in South Beach. She
was going places, and fast. The world was on a string in her world, and
she deserved it. Having been abused as a child by many different
foster parents, she stopped talking for three years during middle school.
Upon being moved to a nice family, she began to regain her facilities.
Coming out of her shell took far less than anticipated, thus her foster
parents encouraged her to do all sorts of things, hoping it would aid
in her recovery. Moreover, it did. She graduated from high school the class
valedictorian, head cheerleader, and class president. She was on fire.
The summer after high school, she joined a non-profit women’s
organization hoping to make a difference. Meeting all kinds of interesting
women, and men, she quickly became part of many circles. Some of which
would have made most people uncomfortable. She was known to consort with
gays and the minorities. Didn’t she know her place? Having worked on
numerous projects for the past four years, she had created her own
circle. And a very A-list one at that. As the years progressed, men started to court her. One man went as far as to stalk her.

His name was Cliff Roth. He despised these bra burning liberal women.
They belonged at home with the kids, and in the kitchen making his food
in preparation for when he got home. Their behavior would not be
tolerated. He would teach all of these whores a lesson. So he followed Eve every where she went. Never coming to close. Always just a few steps behind. She had never actually seen his face.

December 31st, 1981
Having been watching the small organization of woman for almost three
months now, he was ready to make his move. Eve worked there. He would simply blow up the
building. That would rid his pristine world of these whoremongers once
and for all. The plan was simple enough. He would pay someone to go
in and deliver the bomb in the form of a package. If the delivery boy
died in the process, o well, that was a risk Harper was willing to
take. He would be across the street, a safe distance away enjoying the
fireworks.
At four o’clock the delivery boy went in. At four o’ five he came back
out all grins. Ten minutes later the building was blown to
smithereens. Debris and burnt flesh came flying from all directions. He chuckled
to himself heartily. He had done the Lord’s work. Now they could all
get back to their lives. He got into his pick up and drove slowly
along the main drag, content with himself. He lit his
‘after-sex-cigarette’ since that was the only time it was permissible for him to smoke.
Turning onto his street, he happened upon a lovely young woman walking
alone. He slowed next to her, watching her uneasiness. It was Eve.
“Do you need a ride? I wont hurt you love.” He grinned happily. The
endorphins had given him a surge of power. He could do anything, or
anyone. Scanning the area, he determined they were alone. He hopped
from the truck without putting it in park. He leapt in front of her,
blocking her path. Her heart raced with fear. This was what her foster
mother had warned her about.

Before her mind could process what was happening, it happened.

He leapt onto her body like a jaguar on a hare. Her arms were pinned
to her side as pulled her back into the truck. He used his knee to slide
her frock up higher on her slender body. She writhed and fought,
desperate to be free, desperate for some sort of normalcy to her already
hectic world. He had his way with her, ripping her clothing and flesh in
the process. What had she done to deserve this over and over again?
She was worth more than a piece of ass to some ruffian. Anger welled in
her chest and throat. Closing her eyes, she thought “she was going to
have to fix this situation”. The rage enveloped her like a blanket of
black velvet. Her vision began to blur, and everything looked oddly
dim. Finding her voice, she began to growl and scream with anguish,
clawing desperately at the air and her attacker. Nails dug deep into his
bitter flesh, leaving the evidence of her wrath behind. Smelling the blood,
she became increasingly hungry for more. She snapped her head back, and
continued to head butt him, over and over again, knocking him
unconscious. His face was bloody and unrecognizable from the continuous
pounding he took from her skull. She panted heavily as she surveyed her work.
Satisfied for the moment, she slowly sank into the seat and began to ascend back to reality.
Panic seized her when the reality of what she had done, landed her flat on her ass. She may have
killed him. Touching his face, he stirred only slightly. In
desperation, she searched for a pulse. Anxiety welled in her throat at the
prospect of what she may have done. Frantically she scanned the streets
for any possible witnesses. Shoving him to the side, she scooted into
the driver’s seat, and headed to her house, about a half a mile away.
Her mind raced during the drive, darting from the road back to her
victim. Arriving at her house, she cautiously looked around again as she
slid out of the truck, and scurried to the passenger side. She dragged
his limp body to the ground, not being careful with his person. She
pulled him to the house and dropped him in the living room.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she searched for rope or string of some
kind to restrain him should he wake. Emptying drawers and cabinets,
she finally came across some twine at the bottom of a closet. Quickly she
stripped him. She wanted him to be raw before her, just as he had made
her. Happily, she bound him to a kitchen chair, tying him in no
particular fashion. Grabbing an oven mitt from the kitchen, she attempted
to shove it into his mouth. His eyes popped open just then, wild and scared. Eve took pleasure in this. She spat profanities repeatedly in his
face as she continued to shove the mitt into his mouth. He shouted as
loud as he could, only to be muffled by the mitt. Struggling in vain,
he tried to break free of the knots. However, Eve had done a great job
of double knotting everything. He was going nowhere.

She paced angrily in front of him, back and forth. This lasted for
what seemed like an eternity. He had no idea what this woman was going to
do. He may have picked up the wrong girl. He watched her with
fascination. Yes, he knew he may die, but he was more enthralled by the idea
that this woman had taken control of the situation and had fought back.
No woman had ever fought him before. He was Cliff Bradford, actor
extraordinaire. A force not to be reckoned with.
Cliff Bradford was an interesting specimen. Starting out in Tinsletown
at the age of ten, he had very little time for socializing, or a life
at all. He became friendly with the staff on the set. Stagehands,
grips, lighting guys, and just about anyone he could talk to, he did. He
needed to get inside their heads and find out what made this people
tick. What was their motivation? Much to the dismay of his parents, he
excelled at his career. Having been born into wealth, he was accustomed
to getting exactly what he wanted at all times. This included women.
He would stop at nothing to achieve what he wanted. Nothing. Over the
years, he had molested over a thousand different women, and a few men
to boot. His insatiable desire for sex is only succeeded by his will to
be the most powerful man in Hollywood. His family, being the upstanding
citizens that they are, kept all of those matters concealed.

Eve, still pacing and wild, whirled around at her captive, seemingly
pleased with the current situation. She lunged at the chair, stopping
only inches from his face. He could smell the hot desperation on her
breath. She glared at him
vengefully, her mind racing all the while. Slowly she rose to an erect
position. Carefully, she walked to down a corridor to the garage, out of Cliff’s
eyesight. Again, he tried to get free. The knots were just too
tight. When Eve returned, she looked different, almost translucent. It
was as if something took over her being, replacing her with an alien of
sorts. Her hands were behind her back, making Cliff very nervous.
She showed her prize. A machete. He tried to scream, but only
muffled yelps escaped the oven mitt. She licked the tip of it hungrily.
She needed more blood. Ripping open his shirt, she traced the machete
along the line of his chest, watching the dips in muscle that ran along
his torso.

“You know, I can kill you right now. In addition, no one would ever know.
But I’m not going to. I have something much better for you.” She
straddled him in the chair. His manhood stirred beneath her. She
snickered at him.

“That would make you happy wouldn’t it? If I just gave you some? If I
just fucked you!” Her voice got increasingly louder.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You can’t just rape someone and
get away with it. I’m not going to tell the police. I have my own way
of dealing with you.” She grabbed the back of the chair and drug it to
the stop of the basement stairs. She thought for a moment, she could
do it nicely or the right way. So, she did it the right way. She let go
of the chair, letting it fall to the foot of the stairs. It crashed to
the cement floor, leaving Cliff cracked and broken. He whimpered in
pain. The dim light bulb overhead swung back and forth, creating an
eerie glow. When Eve reached the bottom, she stood over him for a
moment, watching.

“How does it feel to be helpless? Huh? How does it fucking feel?”
With that, she kicked him in his side, crushing a few ribs in the
process. A few more cries of pain escaped the oven mitt. Again, she kicked.
He cried again.

“Why are you crying? Don’t be a fucking baby. Take it like a man.
You’re a man right. Take it!!” Blow after blow landed on his body. His
face, his stomach, his back, nothing was missed by her heavy foot.
After a few minutes she stopped, snapping herself back to reality. She
really needed to keep it together. Picking up the chair, she sat it
upright, on its now three legs. Bloody and defeated, Cliff’s head hung
to his chest. She smirked at him as she removed the oven mitt.

“What do you have to say for yourself? Speak dammit!!” She was in his
face, spitting and shrieking for him to respond. But he refused.
Mostly because it hurt far too much to even breath. Becoming infuriated,
she stormed back upstairs, only to return with the machete and some
sheets of paper.

“You’re going to fucking talk to me dammit. You were such a man an
hour ago. What happened?” Grabbing him by a tuft of hair, she yanked his
head back with one hand, while the other proceeded to cut him deeply
with the paper. One cut below his eye, another behind his ear, one along
his leg, and yet another on the tip of his penis. This one caused a
loud cry of pain much to the delight and surprise of Eve. She giggled.
She was really enjoying this torturing thing. Continuing to cut him in
random places all over his body, this went on for the next hour or
so. Shoving the mitt roughly back into his mouth, she walked over to a
dark corner of the basement. Cliff, desperate and scared tried to
reason with the insane woman.

”I’m sorry. I had no idea. You are just so pretty. I wanted to touch
you, to hold you. Is that wrong?” He said thru the mitt. She flew from the corner, holding a
bottle of rubbing alcohol in one hand. Her grin was devilish and
seductive.

“You wanted to touch me. Touch me now.” She straddled him again,
planting her lips full on his, sucking his tongue and lips. He began to
relax as he got into the groove of the moment. But it was just that, a
moment. With one foul swoop, she threw the entire contents of the
alcohol bottle on him, drenching his body. His cuts screamed in agony, his
skin sucking the liquid dry. Especially his penis. Satisfied, she
retreated back upstairs, leaving him in his misery.

The next day:

At around eight a.m., Eve trudged the length of the dirt road to her
job in a daze. What had she done? She was now a felon and would be
wanted within a matter of days. Despite the fact that he had raped her,
there was no excuse for her actions. What if he escaped today, even though there was an armoire up against the basement door? How
would he do it. Her mind was inundated with all sorts of possible
scenarios. But nothing could prepare her for what she came across when she
came to her office building. Having been occupied last night with her
new torture victim, she hadn’t had the chance to watch any television,
or pay too much attention to what was going on outside. Much to her
surprise, there was no office building.

Firefighters, policemen, and news anchors flooded the area, all trying
to get the inside scoop as to what was going on. Rushed people bustled
around and past her as she stood in awe, staring. She was in shock.
This place had been her entire universe. And now, it was gone. Where
was she to go?

“Excuse me sir, what happened here?” She asked stunned.

“There was an explosion of some kind. Did you work here?” The officer
peered authoritatively over his specs.

“Yes” she whispered. Swallowing hard, she slowly turned on her heel,
and headed towards home. Every person that she loved and cared for had
been in that building. She had no idea where to turn now. She was
alone. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized she had to begin the
next chapter in her life if she was going to survive. Tears streamed
down her porcelain face, making it hard for her to see. Somehow, she made
it home through her tears. Slamming the door behind her, she sunk to
the floor and sobbed. Pounding her fists on the floor, she let out
what aggression she was feeling for the moment, exhausting herself. She
crawled to her bed, still sobbing. Climbing in, she closed her eyes to
the world, hoping to forget everything.

Two weeks later:

It had been a little over two weeks since Eve had found herself alone
in the world. Having made a resolve to not leave her bed, she had lost
a considerable amount of weight. Not that anyone was around to notice. The sounds below stirred her back to the real world.
She still had him to deal with.

The basement, dark and dank, now smelled of human feces, urine and
mold. Cliff was a mess by this point. Having not been able to actually
use a bathroom , he opted to go where he sat. This may not have been
such a wise decision, since Eve hadn’t bothered to even acknowledge him
for the past two weeks. He struggled to speak through the oven mitt,
desperate for some sort of communication. She pulled the mitt from his mouth.

“You want me to talk. Fine I will. I have followed your pretty little ass for months. Every time you take a shit, I was right there. Every time you touch yourself and think no one is watching....I’m right there baby. And guess what? I killed all of those little whores you call friends. I killed all of them.” He laughed devilishly. She looked deep into his eyes, turned, and trudged back up stairs. She reappeared with a pen and some paper.

“Are you right- handed or left- handed?” Yanking at his arm, she
dragged him across the concrete floor to the wall, with her machete in tow.
Snatching a spare piece of rope hanging from the wall, she tied his
left arm to the boiler, and released his right. The thrust the pad and
pen at him.

“Write this down. ‘ am sorry for all of the pain I have caused, I am
leaving. I am solely responsible for the death of all those in the
Women’s Rights building. I acted out of fear. I know that it was wrong.
But I cannot go to jail. So I will run. Once again I am sorry.’ And
write it just the way I said.? She stood over him, watching every
move. He added on the end, ‘I hope I see you again one day mom.’ He prayed that
she would notice that he called her ‘mom’ and not ‘mum’.

“You bastard! Did I say add extra shit? Now put it in the envelope.
Do it!” Cliff watched her carefully. Did she know what he had really
done? She didn’t seem to. Snatching the envelop back, she held it between
her lips while she retied him. He already knew the deal with her. It
was best not to fight her. Should he get that urge, she had ways of
putting him back in his place. A few cuts here and there, a facial
beating, or perhaps a skull rearrangement might be in order. Thus, he
remained docile. Eve slipped out the front door and ran to the corner to
drop it in the mailbox.

June 1981

Cliff watched the mice play and feed each other consistently for the
past year. Day in and day out. They were his only companions and source
of enjoyment. That was the only time that he was truly alone with his
thoughts. What had he gotten himself into? A creak from above brought
him back to reality. He remained still, tightening his muscles,
preparing for another physical battle. Nothing. He let his mind wander
again. When was he going to be free? He hadn’t seen the light of day in
almost a year if he had done his math right. Why had no one found him
yet? He was rich, and he knew that his family was looking for him.
Right? Wrong. He had to keep reminding himself of the letter she made
him write. He had given his confession. How had fate turned on him so
tragically? His once sculpted physique had deteriorated to skin and
bones. She refused to feed him more than once every other day, and forget
about drinking. He got to drink the dribbles of vinegar that oozed from a dirty sponge. Every once in a while she would let him pee in a cup,
he knew better than to ask about taking a shit. The first two days he
was there, he had to go, he pleaded and begged for hours, to no avail.
He had to take the conventional method, shit where you lay. That was
most certainly not pleasing, thus he learned to hold it until he was
allowed to go. Eve left him everyday to go to work at a new job.
Moreover, he knew this, but he had yet to figure a way out of the hell she had
created. The machete she had brought down on their first day, still
leaned up against the wall not more than five feet from him. His hand
and feet were both bound, so it was going to be impossible. Jumping up
and down in the chair for momentum, he attempted to reach it, only to
fall over on his side from the lack of the fourth chair leg. He landed with a thud, knocking the wind out of
him for a brief second. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he
saw Eve in the corner behind some boxes. Sure enough, in a flash she was
hovering over him.

“you fucking bastard! Where are you going? Do you not know? You are
my bitch now.” Righting his chair, she punched him in his stomach,
doubling him over in pain. Picking up the machete, she made a small
incision in his penis, watching the blood ooze.

“Is this what you want? Is it?” She cut him again. He shrieked in pain. She had gone way too far. He writhed in excruciating pain. He howled. She laughed hysterically. She climbed the stairs back to normalcy.

She was famished. Since she had begun her tedious task of torturing someone that had initially tortured her, she had not eaten. Pulling condiments and deli items from her fridge, she began to make a sandwich. Nibbling and chewing on her concoction, she thought about what her next plan of action should be. Staring off into space, she took a swig of apple juice, then the next bite. As she swallowed, she realized something was askew. The food wouldnt go down. She reached for the juice, trying to clear her throat, to no avail. Shades of purple and blue filled her once beautiful face. She gurgled and choked, as the life slipped from her grasp. Her life flashed before her eyes. She fell to the linoleum floor with a thud. Her eyes wide with fright, glassed over as the last chokes of breath escaped her. She lay in a puddle of her own bile and drool. She looked like anything but peaceful.

Downstairs, he listened intently. He had heard a thud, but no other sound. He listened, for what felt like an eternity. But no other sound came from upstairs. He waited, and waited, and waited. But she never came. Anxiety mounted in his chest. Where had she gone? After some time, he dozed off. His chin rested uncomfortably on his chest. Someone was standing in front of him, and next to him. He struggled to snap out of his sleep induced haze. They were both women, and they looked really concerned.

“We’re going to get you out of here. Would you like to take a shower?” Her eyes were filled with genuine concern. She slowly undid the knots on his wrists and ankles. The other woman sponged his wounds with a warm concoction. Her touch felt good to his bruised skin. His body sighed with relief. His ordeal was finally over.

Three months later...

Cliff sat in his plush apartment, recanting his recent experience. What had he learned? Absolutely nothing. In the back bedroom lay his latest victim. She was naked, gagged, and bound to the bed post. He positioned her, so that her legs were wide apart. It appeared as if you could see all the way up into her soul. She sobbed and pleaded. He wasnt listening. Someone had to pay for Eve’s sins. Even if it was only her little sister.

The end.

Petit Fours- by Cherry Lynn Thomas

2010-12-09T08:45:00.001-08:00

Friends from a very small age play the French game that involves petite fours. Who ever gets the little prize inside theirs, gets to be king or queen for the day, making their friends their subjects for the day. the subjects have to do whatever the king or queen wishes for the day. As the group of friends grow older, their demands grow more absurd. Then one day a friends asks the unspeakable-murder. She asks her friends to kill a vicious rival who everyone would like to see dead anyway. The friends agree to help and this is where their journey takes a wild ride.

Their tiny little noses pressed against the bakery's glass, tried to inhale the aromas thru the thick pane. The only thing they actually got to smell was their own breath from the condensation they were creating around their cute little faces.. Tika, Alexander, Sasha, and Robert (pronounced "Ro bear") had all been friends pretty much since birth. Robert and Tika were brother and sister and Sasha was a friend of Tika, who was best friends with Alexander. Phew. So this friendship square they had created flourished and grew into something no less than extraordinary. It all started with the Petite Fours.

The four children were what you would call privileged. All having grown up in the South of France with silver spoons in their mouths, there weren't too many things that they didn't have that they wanted. Economically, they were living fairytale lives with their tailored clothing and far too-expensive shoes. Tika and Robert's mother Ana, lived for her children. They were her pride and joy and she would have no one bad talk her ill-behaved children. For the most part, they were both sweet kids with rambunctious dispositions and raucous ideologies that always lead to greater mischief than they had bargained for. They ran the house and their mother with their behavior. They enjoyed frazzling their mother with their behavior. Particularly since their father was always gone on business; typically three out of four weeks, that was the only time they ever behaved. When PaPa was home. They all went to great lengths to ensure that he didnt find out about their misadventures, Ana included. She didnt like to worry Francois too much while he was home. Home was to be his solace. But while PaPa was gone, the kids would play. Should you ever ask anything that was unfitting to them in the moment, they would threaten public embarrassment that was always lived up to when the time came in some playful manner. So Ana, being the dignified socialite that she was, always conceded unless it was dangerous or downright silly. She had an image to uphold in the community. Despite what her two hooligans did. She liked to appease them any way that she could. While out purchasing some needless gifts for the kids, she heard a woman in one of the high end boutiques discussing a birthday party plan for the cake. She was going to put little trinkets inside for the children to take home. Ana's brain went into high gear as she window shopped and actually retail shopped for a new suit to wear to the latest fundraiser.

Then it came to her. She knew a way to get the other kids to behave and help keep themselves in line. She would put only one gift in the group of cakes, and whoever gets the trinket gets to rule for the day with an iron fist. She figured that children can only request so many things since their resources were so limited. She rushed about, giddy with excitement. That evening she put her plan into action.

The children took their usual places. (The foursome always ate dinner at Tika and Robert's house, no matter what. Alexander and Sasha's parents were always traveling so they had no issue with the arrangement. )As the children sat around the grand dining table in the great dining room, she watched them interact with each other playfully. She rang the little service bell to the right of her plate gently. An Asian woman of about 40, came thru the open, heavy oak doors. She was dressed in a fashionable crisp white maid uniform. She didnt look a day over 32. As she entered, she was carrying a trap heaped with colorful little cakes. As she went around the table, each child picked their cake, dizzy with excitement. They all looked at the placed plate of cake set before them, chops drooling in anticipation. Ana dinged her crystal glass for their attention. She looked at their expectant faces. Their excitement was contagious.

"If you open you cake and find a little person inside, you will be King or Queen for the day. That means the three of you will have to do what that person wants for the whole day, until its bedtime. Open your cakes." They all sat their looking at the cake dumbfounded. Sasha had a puzzled look on her face and spoke first.

"That's not fair. What if they want us to do something gross!" Her voice rose an octave in horror. Ana laughed heartily.

"Ok. We'll make it a rule. No gross requests. Deal?" Just as she spoke the word deal, Alexander ripped the cake open with his dessert fork, only to find nothing but cream inside. His shoulders sank a little, crestfallen.

The other children carefully opened their desserts. Tika looked inside all of the layers hoping it was nestled somewhere in a cranny. Robert chopped up his cake to make his search that much more easy. Sasha took a bite of the cake, savoring the sweet chocolate sauce in between the layers. She continued taking little nibbles. Half way through, she saw the little green legs sticking out. She pulled it gingerly from his nest, displaying it for the table to see. The children gasped.

Sasha's eyes were wild with wonderment. She blinked slowly, trying to comprehend her current situation. See the dynamic of the children was very interesting. It was as if there were a hierarchy built in to their square. And sadly Sasha was and always would be the black sheep of the crew. She was the little girl that the others kept around to make themselves feel better. Her eyes looked sad and forlorn no matter how much life danced in her brilliant blues. For her, despite having money at her disposal, she would never be one of the cool kids, even if she bought them. So this opportunity was golden. She sat back in her high back satin chair amazed. She was the queen. Eight eyes stared at her, all feeling different surges of emotion.

"Sasha darling, you've won. What is your first request, Your Highness." Ana took a deep curtsy next to Saha's chair. The little girl blushed importantly. She shrugged apprehensively. Tika sighed exasperated.

"See mama she doesnt know what to do. Let me be queen." Snatching the figure from the table in front of Sasha, she put in front of herself, folding her arms across her small chest defiantly. Displeasure written all over her small features. Ana shook her head impatiently.

"It is not your turn. Sasha pulled the prize, so she gets to be the queen. Now tell them what you would like them to do sweetie." Grabbing the figure and handing it back to Sasha, her voice turned sweet when she faced her. Ana was beginning to realize more and more that perhaps she had created a monster. Sasha was still blinking stupidly like she was living in a fantasy. She swallowed hard before she spoke.

"I think everyone should give me their favorite toy." Her eyes widened when they landed on Tika's fancy, sequined purse she carried everywhere. Who knew what sort of treasures lay inside. Tika clutched her purse defensively. The boys both reached for their respective toys. The room got a little more uncomfortable as the realization that they were going to have to give her what she wanted for the day.

You see these toys were no ordinary toys. Some time back, the children had stumbled upon an old antiques store. The dusty musk of enchantment filled their heads and nostrils sending their imaginations into overdrive. They stood in awe in front of the tiny brick facade, broken cobblestone beneath their small feet. Finally gathering courage, Robert pushed the heavy, ancient door, using his shoulder for power. A tiny bell jingled as they stepped through the threshold. Their parents were going to murder them all if they got their silks dirty. But as always they took the chance. A tiny man, of no more five feet came bustling hurriedly to the front of the store. His wiry white hair stood atop his head in all directions. Bushy brows, beard and mustache covered the majority of his face. But there was no mistaking the kindness and twinkle of mischief that danced behind his chestnut eyes. He wiped his hands carefully on his apron, muttering to himself all the while. Clearing his throat,

"Good afternoon children. What is your delight?" He grinned sheepishly, bowing his head slightly, almost as though they were royalty. The children exchanged excited glances, nudging the other to speak up. Finally, Alexander spoke up.

"We just wanted to have a look around if thats ok. We wont steal anything. We have money, see?" He withdrew a handful of Francs from his pocket, dropping a few of the notes. The man waved at him impatiently, walking from behind the counter towards the children.

"I'm not worried about money young one. I asked you a question." He leaned in towards Alexander, touching the boy's nose with his index finger. His voice was slightly too high and sing-songy. He looked he could have been a distant relative of one of the dwarfs from Snow White. He was slightly round, everywhere, giving him a jolly appearance, just in a smaller package. Alexander blinked confoundedly at the man. Tika, as always the go-getter spoke in rapid fire.

"Well my brother loves trains. He says one day he'll drive a train all the way from Paris to Berlin without stopping. But he's still a silly boy and doesnt realize mummy and papa would never allow it. Sasha loves books. You cant ever get her nose out of a book. Maybe one day she'll grow up and marry a book. Yea? (she laughs to herself) And Robert loves clocks. He's practically obsessed with them. He spends hours hunting for clocks to wind. He's a little weird." She leans toward the old man, whispering the last part, as though everyone wouldnt hear what she had just said. The man chuckled heartily to himself as though that was the funniest thing he had ever been told. He gripped his belly as his body heaved comically. Sasha stood looking shy and less than comfortable.

"And what about you dear? What is your delight?" He tilted his head to the side quizzically. Her eyes got dreamy and far off.

"I love purses. Big ones, small ones, green ones, purple ones, cloth ones, satin ones, sparkly ones. I just love them all!" She sighed heavily, hugging herself as she stared off wistfully thinking about all the purses she had back at home, waiting for her. The boys laughed amongst themselves at her level of girliness. Tika, swatted at them absently, still staring off into the unknown.

"Now, now children. There will be none of that. I think I have something for all of you here. Just stay right there and we'll fix you up." He tousled both of the boys hair and scurried off into the back of the store.

They listened as things were tossed about. A cat hissed protectively as her tail came under fire, a crash of glass echoed through the shop, creating a deafening sound. Firmly clamping their small hands to their heads, the children winced with every catastrophic sound that radiated from the backroom. Colorful tiny balls of glass rolled from a canister that had toppled over. The lights that gleamed from them was a tad peculiar. Upon closer inspection, they looked more like orb of light than marbles. Before their little minds could wrap their brains around what they were seeing, a dimpled, chubby paw scooped them back up and out of sight. Just then, the tiny bell over the entrance rang and the front door opened.

In stepped a chocolate dipped child. At least that is what she looked like to them. Her skin was smooth and almost translucent, her eyes the color of fire roasted chestnuts. Her deep brown curls, bouncing with her every step as she neared the counter. The children stared at her in awe. They had never seen a Metisse before. Metisse were an indigenous tribe of Native Americans that had been transplanted 2 generations ago. They were actually Native American and Black that had been infiltrated by the soldiers that commandeered their land in

Tika's purse, in its depths, contained wishes. Anything she could think of could be.

Nomadic Tendencies- by Cherry Lynn Thomas

2010-12-09T08:44:00.000-08:00

Nomadic Tendencies

Brightly colored streamers and confetti littered the expensive, plush carpeting. Jovial music blared from the overhead sound system as the occupants swayed to and fro; both from the beat and the excessive libations consumed. Usually tightly wound executives, body bumped to the grooves being spun by the despised mail room guy’s ipod. Catty secretaries swigged moderately priced champagne, giggling at their bosses’ misgivings and idiocy. All in all the celebration seemed to be in high swing.

Carlson Hermine sat slumped in the oversized leather arm chair positioned by the fireplace in the reception area, looking forlorn and dejected. He sipped gingerly on his Cognac, savoring the flavor. Or rather avoiding the burning sensation that came with drinking such a strong spirit. This party was supposed to be for him, but he didn’t feel like celebrating. He had to go home and tell his wife of twelve years that he was going on a three month long business trip in Brazil. He guzzled the remnants of his drink and and dropped his head into his hands. He rubbed his temples counter-clockwise aimlessly. He didn’t have a headache, but he surely would by the time he went to bed tonight. Just then a voice broke his private train of thought.

“Carl my boy!!” A loud, slurred, booming voice approached him. He never lifted his head, continuing to massage his head. The shoes looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place them. A hard slap on the back swiftly reminded him who it was. Dan Green from Production. He was the up and coming Golden boy of the President.

“You did it!! You landed the biggest account in this firm’s history. How do you feel?” He teetered slightly as he poured the contents of his glass down his throat greedily. Carl mumbled something incoherently. Dan eyed him suspiciously.

“What? It sounded like you said like shit.” He laughed nervously. Carl lifted his head slowly.

“I did say ‘like shit’. I have to tell Ellen that I’m leaving. She’ll be devastated after what’s happened.” Carl dropped his head back into his hands. Dan looked around nervously, looking for a way out. He had heard about Carl’s “situation”. Just then his assistant happened to walk by, giving him an instant out.

“Ok well congrats buddy. See ya ‘round.” He made haste to catch up with is assistant, slipping his arm around her shoulder, talking animatedly.

It had been two years since Carl and Ellen had lost Eli. He had been their prize and joy for his whole short little life. Carl and Ellen had been arguing one warm summer night and told Eli to go out in the yard to play. They didn’t like exposing him to their “grown-up” issues. Eli had happily done as he was told and went out in the yard, heading to his playhouse. Eli was like any other precocious seven year old. Full of life and curiosity. As eye-witnesses told it, they saw a petite woman at the far end of the yard approach Eli. They talked for a few minutes, with the woman pushing Eli in his swing. The woman whispered something in his ear, and they strode off into the recesses of the surrounding woods holding hands. No one had ever seen Eli again. Carl and Ellen had searched tirelessly, both blaming the other for their misfortune. Replaying the situation over and over in his mind, Carl tried to see a hole in the situation so he could take full responsibility. But there was none. There was nothing anyone could have done. Their marriage was almost at the point of absolution. But then miraculously Gracie was born and changed the dynamic of their little family. She was the silver lining.

And now here sat Carl. Beaten and defeated. Their lives would never be quite the same. It was as though a huge, gaping hole existed where his heart used to be. Little by little Gracie was filling that hole, but there would always be vacant nooks and crannies that should wouldn’t be able to fill. Those still belonged to Eli.

As luck would have it, a little over a week ago a detective had called their home regarding some new information. They had found Eli’s shirt in the woods about ten miles from their home. It was shredded and full of blood. Ellen had been inconsolable since then, never stirring from her bed except to use the bathroom. Carl’s sister had been staying with them to care for Gracie while Carl went to work. And now Carl was going to make Ellen’s life that much worse with his leaving.

Glancing at his watch, he knew he couldn’t avoid the situation any longer. Slowly gathering himself and his belongings, he walked thru the gauntlet of congratulations, hand shakes and back slaps. Stepping out of the building, he inhaled the crisp ocean air coming from the Pacific. He was going to miss the warmth. Once in his car, he envisioned how he would tell both Ellen and Gracie that he would be gone for a few months. He could already see the pain in Ellen’s eyes and hear the hurt in Gracie’s little voice. His heart was already breaking into a million pieces at the prospect of what would come. Pulling into the driveway, he watched the scene unfold through his front window. He could see Alex, his sister, placing dishes on the dining room table as Gracie ran the length of the house excitedly. Ellen was no where to be found. Scanning the second floor, he saw that the light in the bathroom was on. Sighing heavily, he grabbed his briefcase and walked the cobblestoned path to his front door. Before he could turn the knob, the door flew open and Gracie’s chubby little arms were wrapped around his legs babbling away. His heart lightened momentarily as he savored the happy moments as a parent. Body still firmly clamped to his legs, he walked with her attached to him, dumping his briefcase in the hallway. Plucking her from his legs, he swung her body in the air in a faux catch, she squealed in delight. They proceeded with their ritual for a few moments before kissing her on her forehead and setting her down.

He forced his body to head in the direction of the stairs. He had to see Ellen. Usually, he would rush home to spend time with his girls, but today was different. He was the bad guy. Walking into their shared bedroom, he noticed that the curtains were still drawn, despite it being six pm. He strode to the window and pulled the fabric back, drenching the darkened rooms in the rays of the day. The mound beneath the heap of blankets stirred slightly. Slipping out of his loafers, he climbed into the bed with his wife to snuggle away some of the hurt. Slipping an arm around her waist, he pulled her tightly to his body, nuzzling her neck. He inhaled her essence of vanilla and honey, wishing he could take her pain away. She rolled over to face him. He could see the moistness around her puffy red eyes. She had been crying again. The sadness in her eyes consumed both of them. Carl often worried that had they not had Gracie, what would have happened to them. Both were spiraling into a deep dark cavernous place that they might not have been able to escape otherwise.

Kissing her gently, he dove in. He told her about the project, what was going on in the office and then the biggest news. She lay there staring at him absently for a minute as her brain computed the information just conveyed. She blinked stupidly for a moment before rolling herself right out of the bed. She stripped her clothes as she walked towards the bathroom, starting the shower. That was the first time in a week she had showered with no probing. Carl lay there dumbfounded by her actions. Carefully he approached the bathroom.

“Ellen? Are you ok?” Carl stood at the doorway, peering in cautiously. After a moment or two she spoke.

“I have no choice but to be ok Carl.” Her voice was quiet and subdued. Sliding back the shower door, he climbed in with her fully clothed. He hugged her tightly, letting the water cascade off of their bodies. They hugged and kissed sensuously, melting into each other. Everything would be ok. She had already forgiven him.

One Week later…..

Carl’s fourteen hour flight left him tired and drained as he pulled his luggage along behind him. He scanned the sea of drivers with signs for his name. Hermine.

He strolled to the dapperly dressed man, ready to begin his work mission. The driver swiftly grabbed his rolling suitcase and glided them to the awaiting Towncar. Carl slid into the backseat, immersing himself in the cool leather seats. He watched the exquisite rolling landscape pass by. Brazil really was an adults paradise. Bronzed bodies, oiled and toned, frolicked in the streets; making every second feel like a photo op or a catalogue shoot. The women here all looked like models fresh off the pages of Gucci or Prada. In every shade and shape, the women oozed sensuality. Carl was a fat kid in a candy store.

They pulled up to Carl’s new home, his hotel in downtown Sao Paulo. The trees lining the curved driveway, smelled of sweetness. He inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. The driver unloaded his suitcase from the trunk, placing it on the curb. The driver cleared his throat, interrupting Carl’s moment.

“I was told by Mrs. Kendricks to escort you wherever you may need to go. Here is my card. If you need anything, just call me.” Handing Carl his card, he climbs back into the Towncar and heads off down the road. Carl watches him pull away, standing there absently for a moment. A car horn blaring behind him made him jump.

A golden goddess sat behind the wheel of an old decrepit looking green car. The paint job was horrid and the dents and scratches to the body looked to be thousands of dollars worth of damage. She continued to blare her horn in the hopes it would motivate him to move. He stood staring at her stupidly while the world around him moved seemingly in slow motion. She said something in Portuguese that he didn’t understand. Climbing half out of the car, she repeated herself again in her thick accent, but this time angrier.

“Mova isolado!! O que havém de errado com você !!” He still stood staring at her. It was as if he had seen the white light and was content to just float in the light for a bit longer. Exasperated, she sighed, walking over to him.

“American?” She eyed him suspiciously. Men in Sao Paulo didn’t often wear six hundred dollar Zenga suits in the middle of summer. Recomposing himself, he realized he was face to face with her.

“Yes. I’m Carlson.” He extended his hand to her. She swatted at his hand, placing both hands squarely on his chest, pushing him backwards and onto the curb.

“You stay here. You are in way of de cars.” Her clipped English made her all the more endearing. This woman could have been a dead ringer for Debra Nascimento. He stood on the curb as he was told as the woman attempted to cajole her aging automobile into a parking space at the far end of the parking lot. She walked back in his direction, causing his heart to race. Her ample hips swung seductively in her filmy dress, supple breasts jiggling with every step. She breezed right past him and into the lobby. He caught a whiff of her essence as she walked past. Cinnamon.

He watched her walk up to the front desk, talk to the man behind the counter and head off to the right and out of his sight. The exchange could have taken no more than two minutes, but in Carl’s mind it had been an eternity of ecstasy. He quickly shuffled himself and his suitcase into the hotel, intent on catching up to this gem of a woman. Once at the counter, he waited patiently for the front desk attendant to get off the his call. Carl couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t sound like a business call based on the man’s tone and his laughter. Carl scanned the lobby and tried to see where the woman had gone. He was becoming increasingly impatient.

“Sir?” He implored as politely as possible. The man held up his index finger to signal that he should wait. Carl drummed his fingers on the tiled countertop absently, still scanning the area. The man placed the phone back in the cradle carefully, folding his hands on the countertop in front of him. He cocked his head to the side expectantly.
Clearing his throat, Carl tried again.
“Hi. I’m Carlson Hermine. I’m checking in.” He gave a half hearted smile and reached inside his suit jacket to retrieve his wallet. The man clicked away at the keyboard hidden underneath the counter, never speaking or glancing in Carl’s direction. He wordlessly slid the hotel key to him, a fake smile plastered on his tanned face. Carl eyed him warily, taking the key. 243. This was his new home for the next three months. He took a step towards the elevator, heading to the second floor and stopped.

“A dark haired woman came in right before me. What room is she in?” He leaned in closer, hoping to convey the urgency of the information needed. The man looked at him quizzically. Carl tried again in his broken Portuguse.

“Mulher escura.” He motioned with his hands to extenuate her height.

“Ahhh, não é nenhuma convidada” The man bobbed his head definitively, hands folded once more in front of him. Carl looked at him exasperatedly. This was going to be a long three months unless he learned some Portuguese. This time it was the man’s turn to try again.

“She no stay here.” This time Carl got it. She must be visiting someone, explaining the lack of luggage. Defeated, he went to his room.

Swinging open the door, he was impressed with the accommodations his assistant and procured for him. By far much nicer than what he would have booked for himself. Everything was buttercream and white. Cozy. He kicked off his dress shoes and stripped down to his boxers and he rummaged thru the mini-bar. Plucking a tiny bottle of water from the fridge door, he downed the contents and walked to the balcony. He leaned in the door frame, watching the world around him. The fresh air and sun lured him further out onto the balcony. Pushing a chair right to the edge, he peered down at the people below. He sat like this for a while, suddenly missing his wife and little girl. He reveled in these thoughts for a while before his train of thought was interrupted by a loud argument that had spilled outside a few doors down. He could make out a few words here and there, and none of them sounded good. He heard the shattering of some glass and two women tussled out onto the balcony. He watched wide eyed. It was her. Mulher escura.

The other woman, blonde and perky was yelling at the dark woman, poking her in her ample bosom. The dark haired woman, easily three inches taller than her counterpart, looked terrified of the blond woman. Blondie grabbed the other woman by the hair, pushing her to the railing of the balcony. The screaming continued. Carl watching apprehensively knew he had to act before something horrid happened. Scaling the three balcony railings between them like a regular Spiderman, he was there within seconds, hands firmly clamped around each woman’s wrist. Blondie looked confused, but the other woman’s relief was quite apparent. Something falling to the floor with a clink, made all three pairs of eyes fall to the ground. A knife. Blondie was going to severely hurt this woman if she had the chance. Blondie glared at the other woman defiantly, but the other woman was not going to budge, body clamped firmly against the railing of the balcony.

Carl looked from woman to woman, waiting for someone to speak, some sort of resolution. Blondie, having had enough of the Mexican standoff, retreated into the room. The dark haired woman threw her arms around Carlson’s neck and hugged him with all of her might. He felt a dewy wetness forming on the collar of his shirt. Tears. She clung to his body desperately, trying to compose herself. Reluctantly he hugged her back. He knew the boundries of a married man, and they didn’t include holding onto a beautiful woman for an extended period of time.

But despite Carlson’s resolve and love for his devoted wife, he was still a man with serious needs. And Mulher escura, real name Hanesa, was just what he needed. Attentive, vibrant, loving, and fun, she was everything that Ellen was not right now. The more time he spent with Hanesa, the less he thought of Ellen and Gracie. They were becoming more and more like figments of a former life. He languished in the hot tropical heat with his Brazilian beauty, proud. There was finally a sparkle of life in his eyes. But that light was soon going to be nothing more than a flicker.

Carlson rose on that Tuesday with no greater intention than to go to his ten am meeting and head to the beach with Hanesa. But that was not what the day had planned for him. As he strolled into the banquet hall where all of his co-workers were meeting beforehand, he heard a gruff voice beckoning him from across the room. He scanned the faces to locate the owner. Spotting his director, he glided with confidence and ease to his table. Unbottoning his suit jacket, he sat in the high back chair next to his boss. His boss, Mr. Crumlick did not look pleased.

“Hermine have you seen the latest report that came in from Dallas?” His normally pasty skin, was splotched with red patches, most likely anger. Carlson shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Umm, no I haven’t had the chance to review it yet. What was wrong with it?” Carlson reached for the sugar in front of Crumlick, only to be blocked by the man. His hand rested atop the sugar container defiantly.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing Hermine?” His voice was low and sharp. Anger seethed out in every syllable.

“We didn’t bring you here to fuck every thing that walks. We all know Mr. Hermine. Get your head out of your ass and fucking focus!!!” He pushed the container in Carlson’s direction forcefully, causing it to spill into a nice neat pile in front of Carlson.

Despite the deep, dark tan Carlson had attained, he went a ghostly white at his boss’ revelation. Defeated, he hung his head to his chest, holding his head painfully. Crumlick looked down at Carlson from the bridge of his nose. He had a look of disdain and disgust on his face that Carlson was not accustomed to seeing. As the golden boy, Carlson was not allowed mistakes. Especially not when his boss was watching.

“I’m so sorry sir. My head is in the game, I just got a little distracted. It wont happen again.” His eyes pleaded for Crumlick to understand, but he didn’t seem to be getting through to the older gent.

“I don’t give two shits who you fuck. Just don’t embarrass me or the firm. We’re heading back to the states the day after tomorrow. Get your shit in order. ” He pulled the napkin from his lap and placed it on his empty breakfast plate.

“Just one question. How would Ellen feel?” His words hung in the air like a misguided missle. He had opened a big gaping wound. Crumlick glanced pitfully at Carlson and strode to the table a few feet away where the partners were eating.

Carlson looked around apprehensively. The other people at the table were all lowly assistants, interns and lackeys that doted on Crumlick. All four sets of eyes looked at him with sympathy. Sighing, he heaved himself up and headed back to his room to retrieve his laptop. Once safely in his room, he felt the weight of emotions over the last 2 years. Falling face down onto his plush bed, he sobbed like a baby. This was not the way he had intended for things to be. He wanted to be the superhero for Ellen, any way he could. He wanted to be that male figure for Gracie that she would always idolize. And most of all, he wanted to turn back time and keep Eli. But none of those things were possible. Those were not the cards that he had been dealt. He would just have to play his hand.

Composing himself, he picked up the phone on his nighttable and asked to be connected to a US operator. He was going to have to tell Ellen what he had done.

Welcome to my delicious little fantasy land

2010-12-09T08:42:00.000-08:00

Ok ok. You all have convinced me. So after all of this time, I am finally going to do this :) I will post my stories as I write, and will expect constructive criticism from all of you. My feelings will not be hurt. I like truth. Enjoy the ride.

Cherry

xoxo