Dead Girls

by Russ Trautwig

  “Sorry dear, did not expect that to take so long, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”

  She did not turn to greet his reappearance. “Don’t be silly, it’s so beautiful here, I could sit and dream all day,” she answered wondering if the smile on her face, the one she couldn’t wipe off if her life depended on it, she wondered if that smile was too submissive.

  “Well, in any event, I’m here now and done for the day so I’m all yours,” he said as he headed past her to the end of the pool.

  Emily Rovey sat slack-jawed as Jimmy Vale’s naked body went by and walked to the edge. He dipped down to touch his right toe to the water. “Oh My God!” almost escaped her open mouth but she held it in. From behind, the first things she noticed were the muscles in his ass, it was a perfect male ass. His legs were strong and lean, and the shoulders were, well, almost as good as the ass. The area between her legs immediately began to moisten, like Pavlov’s dog had for food, but it wasn’t food she was thinking of. “Umm great,” she said, with a voice that sounded like it came from her twelve-year-old self, high-pitched and squeaky.

  Jimmy turned just his head towards her with a look on his face that let her know he had noticed the change in her voice. “I’m sorry, does this make you uncomfortable? I wasn’t thinking. It’s just, this is what I always do after lunch, I take a swim.”

  “No, no, not at all,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders and a side-to-side shaking of her head, trying to sound as Bohemian as possible. She wanted him to turn around.

  “The water feels great, I love looking out over the city here, in the clothes I was born in, making a beautiful young girl blush,” he said, teasingly, but she sensed a hint of something else there, something deeper than a tease.

  Emily wondered if indeed she was blushing and touched her fingertips to her warm cheek. She was certainly feeling aroused. “The view is magnificent,” she said, teasing him right back and when he turned to meet her eyes, he turned his whole body and this time she did blush, hot and scarlet. She tried oh so hard to maintain his gaze, to meet his stare, but her curiosity won out and she coquettishly dropped her eyes; first to his strong pecs, then his beautiful abs and finally resting them on his penis. She looked there a bit longer than necessary, it matched the rest of his body in its beauty. There was no hair anywhere on his smooth, golden skin, and no tan lines.

  “Do you…swim?” he asked, perhaps hinting that swim, in this case, might be a euphemism.

  “I love swimming,” she answered, continuing the sexual banter in her tone, her eyes, her smile.

  He approached her with a confident stride, as though he could read her mind, as if he knew now that he would not be refused. “Can I help you into your swim attire?”

  Holding his eyes this time, she nodded, their bodies almost touching now. He opened the snap and zipper and pulled down on her denim skirt, it floated to the floor and she stepped backward out of it. He stepped into her again. She raised her arms and he pulled the white tee up and off, tossing it on the lounge chair. His penis was slowly engorging and as it rose, she reached down and held it, feeling it grow in her hand, and grow and grow. She turned her back to him, still holding on, and he undid the clasp and took off her bra. Her nipples were taut and erect, and one had a piercing with a silver ring going through it. “I like,” he said, and she squeezed him a little tighter.

  He pulled her black lace panties down, exposing her vagina with just a small patch of hair neatly manicured above it. He held her head in his hands and looked into her eyes. She tried looking deep into his to see what was behind them but found nothing. She pulled away and kneeled in front of him and was about to take him in her mouth when he pulled her back up. “Not yet,” he whispered, turned, and ran the few steps to the pool, diving in head first. She laughed and ran after him.

  She caught him in the water and they played with each other, touching, and exploring, each of them like they had gotten a new toy and wanted to see how it worked, what was the best way to play with it. When they kissed for the first time they both sank beneath the water, continued kissing. When they broke the kiss, they rose to then break the water. Emily pulled in a big breath, preparing for another one when she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head, looking past Jimmy to the lounge she had been laying on and where a dog had just settled down to watch them. She was at first frightened, a chill coursed through her whole body. Then, she realized, so he has a dog, so what?

  “I didn’t know you had a dog,” she said. She couldn’t bring herself to say what would naturally be next, “He’s so cute,” or “What a beautiful dog,” because truth be known, his dog was hideous. It had yellow eyes and matted hair on skin stretched taut over protruding bones.

  “I don’t,” Jimmy said, “he has me.” There was an uncomfortable silence hanging like he had just said he has cancer, and then it passed as they both laughed.

  * * * * *

  Jimmy knew the time was coming soon. He swam to the edge of the pool, hopped up and out and turned to sit on the edge. He watched her swim up to him, she was beautiful. He had waited a long time for this one, and she was worth it. When she reached him, she stood, showing him her perfect breasts, she fondled him, caressed him, and this time he leaned back and enjoyed her mouth on him.

  * * * * *

  Her eyes were closed, and she was enjoying, enjoying pleasing him. Her hands caressed the muscles in his calf and thigh. She wanted him inside her. When she opened her eyes, the dog had moved, almost as if he had wanted a better position to watch them. Odd, but it appeared to be smiling. “Can we go to your bedroom,” she asked.

  Jimmy glanced at the dog, almost secretively, but she noticed. The dog barked. ‘Sure,” Jimmy said, “Let’s go.” He stood and extended an arm down to pull her out. They half-walked half-ran through the French doors and up the stairs. When they reached the bedroom, it was his turn to show her his skills. He laid her back and began to rub himself all over her; on her thighs, her breasts, her face. He used his erection as a sex toy, stimulating her body with it. He used his mouth on her, bringing her so close to orgasm and then stopping. Again, he went down on her and stopped just short of her climax. She was about to beg him to fuck her when he coaxed her up on her knees and hands and kneeled behind her. When he entered her, her eyes rolled back in her head and she let out a soft but audible scream from the pleasure. “Oh…my…god!”

  After she had reached her first orgasm like this, he rolled her over onto her back. That’s when she saw the old man sitting in the chair against the wall, the dog lying at his feet, licking the drool off his own face. The old man was a living corpse with his gray skin, long scraggly hair that fell from his head in clumps, and deep dark sunken eyes. She tried to say OMG, but the words stuck in her throat. And then a scream broke through. This time her scream was louder, it came from somewhere deep inside her that she hadn’t visited since she was four, gazing through the dark into the red eyes peering back from her open closet. She had screamed like this then and her parents and siblings converged on her room to let her know the monster could not hurt her, the monster was gone, but now it was back, and this time no one was coming to save her.

  * * * * *

  Jimmy forced her head down covering her mouth. The terror in her eyes, the muffled screams, the bucking body, added to his arousal and he entered her again, from the front this time and began thrusting in and out as hard as he could. After what seemed like five or ten or maybe twenty minutes of fighting him to no avail, the resignation collapsed her body and the thrill was ending for him. With a series of slow deep thrusts, Jimmy came inside her and watched the life drain from her perfect face, watched the blue drain from her eyes, leaving behind gray, then black.

  Chapter IX

  Chris stood hunched over a water fountain in the park, pushing a toothbrush in and out of his mouth and around his teeth. He hummed The Happy Birthday song in his head like he used to do when he brushed Conner’s teeth. One of the hu
ndred times today that he would think of his boy. And then he thought of Kelly, and it warmed him, it always brought a sad smile to his face when he thought of his wife. He rinsed his mouth and then rinsed out the fountain before wrapping the toothbrush in plastic and putting it in the top pocket of his navy-blue tee shirt.

  He was early for his Home Depot run and saw a New York Times laying on a paint-peeled green park bench nearby. He decided to sit for a few minutes. Oddly, the paper was from today, even though it was not quite six in the morning. Someone had already been here and finished their paper, leaving it on the bench presumably for someone else to read since there was a silver wire trash bin, five steps away.

  He sat and began paging through the paper. He had an unexpected urge to see what was going on in the sports section and placed the main section back on the bench turning to the baseball box scores. He didn’t even follow baseball, hadn’t in years and could not even name a single player on the Yankees and yet…something had moved his hands, something had guided him to page fifty-three where across from the box scores an advertisement leaped from the paper and grabbed hold of his windpipe. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t swallow, all he could do was stare at the words he found outlined in thick black borders halfway down the page; JULY 10 at BARCLAYS CENTER, AN EVENING with JIMMY VALE.

  It was fate, or it was Kelly, and it was surreal, and it chilled his bones. He looked around, half-expecting to see her behind a tree or up on the bridge. He looked at the clouds in the sky, again searching for some clue or recognition of something supernatural, but there was nothing. He could see The Dakota from here, looming above the park and thought how perfect it would be for Jimmy to be staying in John Lennon’s old place but didn’t think it was a hotel anymore. Jimmy Vale, he thought, what are the fucking odds of that?

  He knew what the logical next step in his process was, find Jimmy and talk to Jimmy, but vagabonds couldn’t just walk up to rock stars and say “Hey, how’s life? Mine sucks. I wonder why. Say, have you seen Father Flynn around?” He was walking aimlessly, south, thinking about his plan and at times, talking aloud to himself. People he passed, crossed the street to avoid being too close to him, they must have thought him to be a bit touched. Chris found himself on Fifth Avenue waiting for the green light to cross 116th. He was six blocks from the northern end of the park. He quickened his step with a destination now, he hadn’t seen José in quite a while, and Sundays, José would be at the Chess and Checkers House. It would take him about an hour.

  He stayed on Fifth Avenue down Museum Mile, past the reservoir and The Met and turned into the park on Seventy-Second Street. He was wearing blue jeans and black Keds with a navy-blue Hanes tee shirt, and his red bandana tied up on his head. His beard was long, and the heat was oppressive. The thin high clouds that continued to pass between him and the noon sun were a welcome respite. As East Drive turned into Center Drive he passed the Balto statue and then the Olmstead Flower Bed before walking beneath the Playmates Arch just as a white horse-drawn carriage went overhead. There was an old couple in it and they were talking, laughing, and holding hands and he longed for his wife. She was dead ten years now and he never ever pictured himself with another woman, it was always her. He wondered if that would ever change and doubted it.

  Chris paused for a few minutes in the cool shade of the arch, leaning with his back against a side wall and his left leg bent so his foot was on that wall as well. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his jeans. A steady flow of people paraded past and he eyed them all with curious interest. Distracted by each from his appointed intent; where were they going? Were they happy? Did they ever love someone so much, that they would stay away, knowing the person was better off without them? Had they ever seen the devil break the neck of a fifteen-year-old girl and then eat her? A dog barked just inside the opposite end of the archway and echoed around the tunnel and through his brain, jolting him from his thoughts. He looked right, it was a small white poodle at the end of a leash, being held by a tall woman in what he assumed were her church clothes, he relaxed.

  He exited the tunnel of the arch and the church-like Chess and Checkers House was right there. He glanced at the cement tables beneath the trellis and there was José, with his Yankees cap turned backward, looking intently at the game board where he was sitting. Across from him, a dark-skinned man with dreadlocks was just reaching down to fondle his rook as he thought. When Chris approached, José’s face lit up and his mouth began a smile that would just sit there for a while. Chris had seen some of the dozen or so other men before, there were no women, but the only one he had ever played against, was José.

  Their friendship went back a couple of years, they had both been on the street then and this haven of gameplay had been their natural connection. Chris helped José with some cash from time to time and eventually convinced him to enter the half-way house on Columbus. José thrived from that day forward, getting a job, getting straight and now he was about to be married. He told Chris he would pay him back one day, some way, and Chris knew he would make good on that promise. They both continued frequenting the game tables and still spent some good time challenging each other and sharing things they shared with no one else. It was an unparalleled street camaraderie.

  “Check,” the man said to José, as Chris approached. Perfect timing, Chris thought. His friend stared at the board for five or six minutes, analyzing his options, before the other man finally said, “Mate.” José sank back into his bench. “I believe it is, my friend,” he answered, in a voice that did not sound like it came from the burly looking man in the Yankee cap. José’s voice was high and his accent was Queens, not East Harlem. “You play a mean game, Sam, I’ll get you next time,” and with that, he rose and walked over to Chris. He threw his arms around his old friend and finished off with a chest bump.

  “Hey man, where you been? I ain’t seen you in like a month or whatever,” José said.

  “We played chess here last Sunday,” Chris answered incredulously.

  “We did? Wow, seems like way longer, bro. I been lookin for you, you know, did your library friend tell you?”

  “Who? Raymond? No, never said a word but I haven’t been to the library this week. What’s up?”

  “Grab a table, I’ll go get the chessmen. Tell ya when I get back.” With that he walked off towards the House and Chris did just as he was told. José returned a few minutes later carrying a shoe box full of chess pieces. He sat down across from Chris and began removing the black chess pieces from the box. Chris reached in and started extracting the white ones.

  “So?” Chris asked.

  “Sew your buttons,” José said and laughed at his own comedic genius.

  Chris tilted his head sideways at gave his friend a backward glance as if to say, “seriously?”

  José laughed some more and then cleared his throat. He leaned conspiratorially into Chris and spoke in a much lower tone this time. “You know that dude you was telling me about? The one you went cross country with back in the day, who’s the big rock star now?”

  “Jimmy? Jimmy Vale?” Chris asked, knowing full well that’s who José meant because he had just told him about Jimmy last week. Chris had periodically confided in José, bits and pieces, not the whole story. José knew that Chris had faced off against the devil and lost, which is how he thought about it. And he knew that Jimmy Vale and Chris had been friends and that Jimmy was involved in some way but that they didn’t speak anymore. Lastly, he knew that Chris would like to talk to the musician. Twice today, Jimmy Vale is front and center. Who the hell, or what the hell is guiding my hand?

  “Yeah, yeah, that one: You will never guess who checked into my hotel last night with an entourage of oh…maybe…like a million people?” he asked.

  “No fucking way,” Chris said.

  “Way,” his friend answered with a Cheshire smile. “And I’m just the man to get you in to see him.” He made his opening gambit.

  Chapter X

  “Hi Mark, i
t’s Kim,” she said, and then realized that his phone would have already told him that. “I’ve got a long shot, but I need your help just to make sure that what I’m thinking isn’t crazy because it just might be genius.”

  “Well, I’m your biggest fan, you know that, so let me have it and I’ll do my best to confirm your opinion of yourself,” the intern said, chuckling as his sentence rolled away.

  The black Impala had its cruise control set at seventy-five, flying down the Christopher Columbus Highway just southwest of Cleveland, Ohio. The A/C was working hard to keep the ninety-two degrees outside from getting in. Special Agent Kimberly Watson had a feeling that her current destination was probably not the more critical of the two stops she had planned. She did think, however, that it was a necessary first stop. The sky was clear, and the sun was hot, and the road ahead appeared to her through waves of heat emanating from the baking blacktop. She was driving in the opposite direction, on the same road that the person she was going to see had driven on nearly twenty-eight years ago to the day.