by Jason Luke
“Grover…?” I felt a sudden coldness settle on my chest – a chill of formless understanding and disbelief.
Nancy’s voice became spiteful with triumph. She thrust an accusing finger into my ribs like she wished it were a knife. “You’re fucking lying!”
I felt the first dark clouds of an unholy rage boiling up within me. A red mist of hatred burned behind my eyes so that when I spoke it took all my willpower to keep the words stilted and restrained.
“Grover saw us?”
“Through the blinds between the booth and the studio when you were airing the sub-club session. He saw you fucking her, Jericho!”
I recalled last night’s program – the frantic rush as I put down the blinds because we were behind schedule. Suddenly I knew.
I went very still. “Nancy, what Grover saw was me on my knees behind April. I had my jeans on. April had her panties on. I pulled her against me and we simulated sex so I could describe the curve of her back and the way her body moved to listeners – to give the session a sense of reality. At no time did I touch April. She had her bra off – her choice – but I didn’t even touch her breasts. What Grover told you is wrong.”
“She’s making a fucking play for you! Can’t you see that?”
I shook my head. “She’s not,” I said emphatically. I could have told Nancy then that April was gay – I could have… but I wouldn’t betray April’s secret or her trust. “We are nothing more than friends. Nothing more.”
Nancy’s expression became wrenched with fresh torment. She was leaning towards me, but doubts held her back. “You have to trust me,” I said again gently.
Long seconds of agonized silence followed. Nancy stared into my eyes, looking for any sign of betrayal. Finally she sighed, and all the tension seemed to drain away from her body so that she went limp. Her features softened, but there was still a hot flush of temper on her cheeks.
“Swear it to me,” she insisted. “Swear that you didn’t fuck April, and that there is absolutely nothing going on between you two.”
I stepped closer. I took her hand gently in mine and placed it over my heart. I looked into her eyes. “I swear it,” I said.
Nancy blinked, then nodded slowly. She let out a long weary breath. “Okay… I believe you.”
“Trust,” I said yet again. “Everything between us hinges on trust.”
Nancy looked up with a flicker of a defiant challenge. “Does that work both ways, Jericho? Do you need to trust me as completely as you are asking me to trust you?”
I thought about that seriously for a long time.
“Yes,” I admitted.
We lapsed into another long silence. There was still tension in the air, but it was dissipating like dark clouds clearing from a sky. Nancy kept pacing the room restlessly. But the agitation had gone from her.
“Where is Cecily?” I asked at last.
Nancy glanced at me in surprise at the sudden change of subject. “She arrived back this morning.”
“Back? Has she been on holiday?”
“No. Her mother passed away. She got the call last week here at work… it might even have been during your first program.”
I thought back. I remembered Cecily on the phone, the secrecy and the expression on her face. At the time I had thought it proof that she had been Sondra. Now that phone call made sense.
“Get her in here,” I decided. “I need her to produce the program tonight.”
Nancy looked perplexed. She started to shake her head. “But Grover is slated to your show…”
She saw the blaze of fury in my eyes and her voice faltered.
“Grover won’t be able to work tonight…” I said. “Not when I am finished with him.”
Chapter 29.
I arrived at work early and prowled the halls of the radio station, still simmering with anger. April arrived and saw the dark look on my face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said. This was between Grover and me.
“Has it got something to do with this morning’s meeting? The dragon was pretty pissed. Did she say something to you?”
I shook my head. “Only that she was happy with the way the program was going,” I told the little lie, and then changed the subject. “Did you see Cecily in the parking garage?”
April shook her head. “No. Should I have?”
I frowned. “She’s producing the program for us tonight. I thought she might come in early… try to get up to speed with what we’re doing with the different segments.”
April looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t get the memo. I thought Grover was – ”
At that exact moment, Grover appeared in the foyer. He had a hippie bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a ‘Bon Jovi’ tour t-shirt and faded jeans with sandals on his feet. He saw April and me standing together, and his face broke into an artificial, insincere smile.
“Hiya, guys,” he said in an artificial, insincere attempt at friendliness. I glared at him and he turned his attention to April. “How was the meeting with the evil one this morning?”
April shrugged. “Same old, same old,” she said.
Grover nodded like he wasn’t listening. We headed down the hallway and Grover went straight into the producer’s booth.
I led April into the studio and carefully lowered the blinds. She gave me a puzzled, curious look.
She dropped down into her chair, threw her handbag on the floor. I leaned over the desk and pushed my face close to hers.
“I want you to call 911 on your cell phone,” I said in a slow calm voice. “I want you to get paramedics here to the radio station.”
April’s eyes went wide and filled with alarm. “What? Why?”
“Tell them we have a man here with severe abdominal pain. He will need to go to the hospital.”
April stared at me like I was crazy. “When did this happen?” she asked.
“In about five minutes from now,” I said pointedly.
She shook her head, utterly confused. “Jericho, I don’t –”
“Just do it,” I said, and then walked out of the studio, pulling the door closed behind me.
I pushed the door open to the producer’s booth and stood for a long menacing moment on the threshold. Grover saw me. He was sitting at his desk with his feet up, ankles crossed, on the tabletop. His face went pale. He swung his legs to the ground and his body seemed to shrink within the chair. I stepped wordlessly into the room and glared at him.
Grover got unsteadily to his feet. I could see ghastly fear in his face. His eyes were enormous and there was a twist of panic across his lips. He held up his hands.
“Whoa,” he said. “What… what’s up, man?”
I crossed the room slowly. Grover edged away until he was up against the desk with nowhere else to move. He was shaking like a man in the grips of a fever. I clenched my fists and the knuckles cracked.
“Do you remember what I told you last time you looked through the window into the studio while April and I were recording a sub-club segment?” My voice was low and filled with menace. I took a step closer to Grover. I wanted him to see the intent in my eyes.
He bobbed his head pathetically and licked his lips. His eyes darted around the room looking for an escape that didn’t exist. I saw him steal a glance at the phone, but he realized there was no way he could make a call in time.
“I… I remember, man!” he said. He tried to make his voice sound confused and bewildered. All I heard was guilty fear.
“Well you got your only warning,” I said. “Now I’m here to fulfill that promise.”
Grover bumped against a pile of folders and they clattered to the floor. He was sweating. I could hear his breath – short sharp gasps of air.
“I found out what you did,” I said.
Grover started to babble a denial. I slapped him open-handed across the face. The blow wrenched his head to the side, and the crack of sound was like a gunshot. Grover’s eyes filled with stinging tears.
He held his hand to his cheek as if to reassure himself that his face was still intact.
“Shut up, and listen,” I said in a cold, dead-voiced threat. “I said last time that if you did it again I would gut you – take a knife and slit your deviant body from your chest to your abdomen – rip you open like a fish so that your entrails spilled out on the floor. Remember that?”
Grover didn’t answer. Tears ran down his cheeks. His mouth fell open in a silent shriek for help, or maybe mercy.
“I’m not going to do that, after all,” I said. My eyes bored into his. My gaze was cruel. I felt no sympathy, no compassion. “In fact, I’m going to do the exact opposite…”
There was a long moment of silence. Grover was moaning softly, bending at the waist as though he might collapse. I took a step closer and he instinctively flinched away from the desk.
Right where I wanted him.
I kicked out hard, driving my foot into Grover’s crotch. The blow had all my weight and balance behind it – like a long distance punt on a football field. I felt my boot sock meatily between his legs and the crush of soft squelching flesh. The force of the kick heaved him off his feet and he fell to the ground writhing in excruciating pain. He clutched at his abdomen and thrashed around on the carpet. His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth wide open. He was making a high-pitched keening shriek. His face was waxen and white. He curled himself up into a tight ball and began sobbing.
I left the room, pulled the door quietly closed behind me and went back into the studio. I glanced at the clock. It was 11:35pm. Then I saw April’s expression. She was very pale, very small. She looked at me with big fathomless eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She slid her finger off the intercom button that connected the booth and the studio. “I heard everything,” she said.
I looked into her eyes. “He told Nancy that you and I were having sex during last night’s show. There must have been a chink in the blinds after I lowered them. He was watching you…”
April nodded her head, a silent solemn understanding.
I said nothing.
A few minutes later a team of paramedics arrived.
Chapter 30.
On Wednesday evening I let myself into Nancy’s apartment before heading in to work. She had just arrived home from the office. Her handbag was slung over the arm of the sofa and she had kicked off her shoes in the hallway. I stood for a moment. The living area was empty but from the bedroom I could hear the faint sound of humming. I went stealthily towards the sound. The bedroom door was open.
Nancy’s blouse was crumpled on the bed beside her skirt and underwear. I heard the sound of running water and followed it to the bathroom.
She was in the shower, singing quietly to herself. I could make out the shape of her figure through the billows of steam and the frosted glass of the shower stall. I stood leaning in the doorway with my arms folded and watched her with fascination and the first stirring of lust.
She was shaving – I could see her smudged silhouette bending at the waist as she drew a razor up her legs. She started singing, and her voice wasn’t bad. She was never going to release a record, but she could carry a tune.
I went into the bathroom towards the vanity mirror and wrote a message on the steamed glass…
I’m waiting to fuck you.
Your Master.
I went back into the bedroom, pulled back the covers and then drew the blinds, blocking out the last of the afternoon’s sunshine and enveloping the room in cool shade. I heard the water in the shower cut off abruptly, and a moment later the sound of the shower door closing.
I peeled off my t-shirt and stood bare-chested beside her bedroom dressing table.
It was an old piece of furniture – an antique, with ornate legs and dark polished wood. It was covered with tubes and small jars of lotions and potions, and above the countertop was attached a framed oval mirror. There was a photo of Nancy with her arms around an elderly couple wedged under an edge of the frame, and beside it was a small blue envelope.
I stared down at the brew of facial creams and cosmetics on the dresser, and then heard Nancy give a sudden shocked gasp of delight. She came running into the bedroom, barefooted, with a white fluffy towel clutched to cover her breasts. Her hair was wet, her body still beaded and glistening and rosy pink from the hot water. She stopped when she saw me, a happy-you-are-here smile across her face.
“Drop the towel.” I gruffed.
Nancy dropped the towel. It fell around her feet and her hands went obediently behind her back like she was on a parade ground. She stared straight ahead of her. She pulled her shoulders back to display her breasts.
“Get into position.”
Nancy dropped to her knees. She flicked me a glance to be sure it was the way I wanted her.
“Open your mouth.”
Nancy obeyed. I drew down the zip of my jeans.
“Come to me.”
She moved, feline and sensual, and I watched the sway of her hips and ass as she crawled on her hands and knees. She took my cock between her lips and sucked me into her mouth.
Nancy groaned around the fullness of me and then began to bob her head in rhythm with my thrusts. Her eyes watered. I pushed from my hips, using the pressure of her lips and the fluttering rasp of her tongue to ignite sparks of sensation along my shaft. When I was hard and slick with the adoration of her mouth I fisted my hands into her hair and lifted her to her feet.
“Get on the bed,” I said tersely. “I want you lying down. Reach back with your hands and grip the headboard. Don’t dare let go until I give you permission.”
Nancy flattened herself on the bed, hands clinging to the headboard as if I had tied her wrists there with invisible threads. She spread her legs without command and then looked up to where I was standing.
“Like this?” she asked with a provocative pout.
I nodded and kicked off my jeans. I went to the bed naked and knelt so that my mouth was close to the slice of her pussy. She smelled of powder and perfume. The mound of her sex was smooth and soft.
I blew a warm breath of air across the top of Nancy’s thighs. Her legs inched wider apart. I flicked my tongue across the button of her clit and her whole body spasmed. She was wet and glistening, ripe and already aroused. I covered her pussy with my mouth and drew my tongue in long slow swipes across the folds of her flesh.
Nancy bucked her hips then seemed to settle deeper into the mattress. I could see the tight strain of tension in her thighs. I worked the tip of my tongue inside her and felt the sweet taste of her arousal. I heard Nancy groan – a long low sound like all the breath was spilling from her lungs. I took the nub of her clit gently between my lips and hummed.
“Oh, fuck…!” Nancy cried out. She lifted her head off the pillow and looked down between her legs. I saw the stunned look on her face from the corner of my eye. I deepened the sound I was making so that the vibrations rumbled in the back of my throat. Nancy began to tremble.
With her clit trapped between my lips, I eased two fingers deep inside Nancy’s pussy. She was slick with her desire. She took me deep inside herself and her muscles clenched. I kept my fingers still, enjoying the spasmodic pulse of her grip. Nancy grunted and then threw her head to the side. Her mouth fell open in a silent ‘O’ of pleasure.
“Roll over, onto your hands and knees,” I said at last. “Bury your face in the pillow.”
Nancy moved obediently. She lowered her head and turned her face to the side. Her bottom was high up in the air, her legs spread wide. I could see the glistening trail of her juices and I ran my finger through them and then sucked the taste of her into my mouth like I had been gifted a rare and precious delicacy.
“Bite the pillow,” I said.
She looked at me with a curious, questioning expression.
“So no one will hear you scream,” I explained… “Because I promise you, you are going to scream.”
I knelt behind Nancy on the big bed and sl
owly eased myself inside her. She started to pant. I gave her a moment to become comfortable and then began to drive forward with my hips. There was no finesse – this was about dominance and power. Our bodies collided together like waves crashing on the shore until I saw Nancy’s hands fist into the bed sheets and her body began to tense.
I dug my fingers into her hips and marveled at the way her body shuddered to each crashing thrust. I felt a trickle of sweat on my brow. I leaned over Nancy’s back and bunched my hand in the tangles of her hair, holding her face down against the pillow. She bucked her hips and then seemed to rock from side to side. I could hear her breathing become great gulps of air as she teetered on the edge of an orgasm.
I stopped suddenly – went completely still, my cock buried deep inside her, and the muscles of her pussy clamping in fierce spasms.
Nancy was tensed – her nerves drawn tight and on the point of breaking. I left her there for long seconds while her body convulsed and her pussy rippled around my shaft.
“I am your Master,” I said calmly.
“Yes.” Nancy groaned.
“And you will serve me with your body.”
“Yes!” she gasped.
“And you will surrender your mind to me – submit in every way.”
“Yes!” she hissed – the single word an exclamation of her desperation and her desire. Her body was on fire. She squirmed her bottom against me.
I thrust my hips and she cried out in relief.
I thrust again and her cry became a long satisfied moan.
I thrust once more, and Nancy began to come.
The sound was like an old warning siren, starting somewhere deep within her as a low moan and building in volume and pitch until Nancy was keening into the muffling sound of the pillow. Her fingers clawed at the sheets and her back heaved. She fell forward on the bed and my cock slid from inside her.
I swung my feet off the bed and began to dress. Nancy lay for a long time in the trance-like afterglow of her orgasm. She rolled over with limp lethargy. Her eyes were distant and dreamy. One of her hands drifted lazily down to her pussy as though the aftershocks of her release were still rippling within her.