by Tiana Laveen
“I love it when you do that…” She smiled at him.
“I love it when you ask me, too.”
“The only thing I look at with such a stern, discerning eye are bones,” she joked.
“And that’s important…Ms. Italy.”
She grinned and took another drink of her water.
“Well, it is, just not nearly as exciting to some people but to me,” she shrugged unapologetically, “it means the world, literally.”
“Bones…skulls…yes, you seem to have an affinity towards them.”
“They tell us so much; the remains of someone tells a rich history and story.”
Brooklyn then startled him by leaning towards him and running her fingertips down his face, applying pressure in her touch. That surprising act turned him on. His groin stiffened as she continued, while staring deeply into his eyes. She kept feeling his bone structure, jamming around the hollow of his cheekbones and jaws.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked softly.
“Not really…” He leaned toward her, allowing her easier access. After awhile, she leaned back and crossed her legs, fixed her napkin across her lap.
“So, you’re just going to stick your hands all over my face and not offer any information?” He laughed.
“No,” she smiled at him, “I was going to. First of all, you—”
The waiter came up and took their order, stopping her mid-sentence. Ace asked to view the wine menu, then set his sights back on Brooklyn. Her head was tilted ever so slightly to the left and her thick, dark hair was pulled back with a paisley, silk band, showcasing her own amazing bone structure and lips that he never got tired of kissing.
“There is something in my field that we call ‘mandibular traits’.” Ripping open a packet of sugar, she tapped half the contents into her cup of white tea. Soon, the tinkling of the spoon swarming about the hot mixture became the music to her words. “Though it is not an exact science, we can sometimes figure out a person’s race by their bones. The jawbone is particularly helpful.” She took a thoughtful sip of her tea.
Ace swallowed, extended his leg and leaned back in his seat as he tapped the table with his fingertips.
“Your forehead is average sized, yet width wise, more expansive.”
“So you’re saying I have a big head?” He laughed lightly, drawing a slight grin from her.
“No, but that is more common with certain European and Asian races. It can occur in other races as well; it is just not as prevalent.” She took another sip, still looking down into the cup as if relaying a moving story. “There is a slight bump on the bridge of your nose, and the soft part, the septila cartilage, is narrow, yet also has a slight bulge. This is more common with Italian, Spanish and Romanian races.”
Ace slicked his tongue over his bottom lip, taking it all in. He found himself crossing his arms and tucking his hands under the armpits, while he listened intently.
“This is difficult, however. It’s not an exact science, but with historic bones it is much easier versus modern man, due to marriage between different races, resulting in offspring that can take on various aspects of each race.”
“This sounds like forensic science.” Ace leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table. “You know, I use a similar concept when doing age reconstruction for different people. I developed a software program for age progression. Now, it is not nearly as sophisticated and scientific as what you’re describing, but I’ve found it to be fairly accurate.”
“I think your work is fascinating, Ace. I believe I’ve told you that, despite it being the vehicle that caused us to meet.”
“In a way, you’re an investigator, too. We kinda have the same profession, don’t you agree?” He took a red glass of wine from the waiter, nodded and took a sip before placing it back down on the table.
“In some ways, I suppose you’re right. That is rather interesting.”
“I believe so. I have a healthy respect for what you do. I like how you can explain complicated things like bone structure in a way that everyone can understand. Biology wasn’t my forte in school, unless it was sex education.” He smirked.
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Why do I find that not hard to believe?”
She glanced back at the woman in the wheelchair. He followed her eyes. She was now sipping a white liquid through a straw. He assumed it was milk.
“I’d like to do that to you one day.”
“What? Put me in a wheel chair?” He joked. “I thought you were working on forgiveness?”
“You’re an absolute crazy lunatic.” She giggled. “No, cast your body. We do that sometimes when bones are missing and we are trying to figure out exact height. We will use what we do know and make a cast, filling in the gaps. I’ve had it done, my whole body cast. I underwent the process in my apartment. You moved my cast body for me. It’s now in storage.”
“That was you?” His brow rose. “Hmmm…not nearly as impressive as the real thing.” He scanned her body real slow and nasty, not hiding the intentions of his words.
“You really are something else, Mr. Blackstone.” She picked up her tea cup and took another sip.
“So I’ve been told. But, you are my everything.” He raised his wine glass in the air, inviting her for a toast. Grinning, she raised her cup as he brought his glass to it. “To a beautiful woman…a smart lady. I thank God for discovery of all things, Brooklyn…”
~***~
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Brooklyn had spent the last two evenings holed up in her office. She couldn’t stay away from the museum long; it beckoned her. She’d cut her vacation short and immediately jumped into a pool of work until she was happily drowning in those waters. She opened the front door to Ace’s empty high-rise penthouse and walked into darkness. He hadn’t even left the hall bathroom light on. A new project had been consuming her time, and she was grateful for it, especially because it softened her worries via distraction. She navigated through the darkness and flicked on a light, then made her way into their bedroom.
She didn’t want to bring it up to him anymore, but she was running on pure adrenaline more times than not. Her life had been turned upside down. She no longer blamed him for it, though, It wasn’t Ace’s fault her father wouldn’t shake the rabbit loose. As she admired the new curtains she’d purchased and the painting she’d placed in the spare bedroom, she still realized she missed her old place. Ace was doing all he could to make her feel at home. They were going to turn this room into her very own office, and the purchases had already begun.
I’ll come in here and box up some more of this stuff tonight…
Nevertheless, she was happy in Ace’s home, their home. His place was stylish, modern, clean. He had a maid come in three times a week, and his refrigerator was always so neat and tidy, with the bottles all turned the same direction — the labels front and center. He said he’d been conditioned that way due to boarding school, and it just never left him. He kept a running tally list on the refrigerator of all the card games she’d lost. The man was shamelessly competitive, and she vowed to not play with him anymore since he’d make much ado about nothing. Ridiculous.
Setting her purse down, she made her way back up the hall to the living room.She grinned to herself as she slid her shoes off and slumped down onto the couch, tossing her coat aside, versus hanging it up like a good girl. She sat there for a good while, rubbing her foot until she heard tiny whimpers. A chill ran down her spine. She was certain she was home alone, and Ace had stayed at work late. Who could it be? The whimpers grew louder. She calmed down a bit when she recognized his voice. Shooting up from the couch, she hurried down the hall and she pushed the master bedroom door open. The shrieks grew louder. She had no idea he’d even come home.
There he lay, seemingly still asleep but screaming at the top of his lungs, shaking and arching his back like a maniac.
“Ace!” She raced to him and cradled him in her arms, squeezing him, calling his name and gently sm
acking him to bring him out of the damned thing. “Ace! Wake up!”
His body felt hard and stiff in her hands, his muscles taut, and his flesh cold. His pajama pants had ridden up to his knees, exposing muscular, kicking legs bunching the white sheets. Eventually, he settled as she cradled him like a baby, but his eyes remained alive with frenzy. His pupils dilated in rapid speed, as if light were cast his way, and retracting. It was the damnedest thing. Not only did he just have a nightmare, but also a hallucinogenic experience. His body was truly responsive to whatever his brain had tortured him with. Since her short time living in his home, she’d noticed him tossing and turning rather often. Usually, she’d just nudge him and he’d awaken, then fall back to sleep with no problem; but this time, it was different. Her baby was suffering, and she wanted to know what haunted him, to get into that discussion once and for all.
“Ace…”
“Yeah…” He swallowed and closed his eyes, his mouth ajar as his chest rose and fell while he fought his shortness of breath.
“Do you know that you have a lot of nightmares? I mean, a lot. We’ve talked about this briefly, but it seems to be getting worse.”
He slowly opened his eyes and moved away from her, wrapping the sheets snugly around his waist. Lying against the headboard, he continued to breathe uneasily, opening and closing his eyes as if he were fighting sleep all over again. He’d heard her, surely, but he appeared reluctant to open up this door, to show full disclosure. Was it to be permanently locked?
No more secrets, please.
“Brooklyn, yeah, I know about the nightmares…the frequency, that is. I’ve been havin’ ’em since I was a little kid.”
She crawled across the bed towards him and hitched her arm around his waist, then kissed his temple. Sweat beads covered the bridge of his nose and his hairline.
“Well.” She ran her hand affectionately up and down his bare chest. “You’ve said they are about horses, but what does that mean? What are these nightmares about?”
“I dunno…”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“What I mean is, they are fragmented. It is always me sitting there, screaming, horses running everywhere and even louder screams of other people around me. The details aren’t important, Brooklyn.”
“Ace…tell me. I want to know.”
He sat there despondent, , his body hunching. He fell deeper under the covers as if the sheets had a mouth with which to swallow him up in one fatal gulp. His expression grew so weary. The man had all but given up.
“I’m sitting on a dirty floor, or maybe outside at night but everything is pitch black except these shadows and clouds of dust. The horses are coming towards me, ready to trample me, but then they veer off and miss me. It’s the same thing all the time…” He sighed. “Please, Brooklyn. There isn’t much else. I…I’m done talking about this because there is nothing else left to say, really…but I’m sorry if I scared you.” He exhaled loudly and his head fell forward, as if he were spent.
Ace was troubled and all she could do was wrap her arms a bit tighter around her love. She comforted him in her embrace, making him bend into her frame. Initially he kept still and unyielding, then he turned into freshly churned taffy, pulled and manipulated, limb by limb, until they were wrapped up together like two octopi with interlocking tentacles. She dotted kisses along his face, nose and chin as she ran her fingers roughly through the back of his short, cropped hair.
They shared no more words, just that simple embrace. An act of kindness in the midst of uncontrollable mental cruelty, a ghost haunting him in his most needed hours — precious moments of peace. The nightmares robbed him of that serenity, and though she could never recover his stolen balance, in her kiss, she wished to restore a bit of his lost vulnerability…
~***~
Once again, the woman has me doing some shit I don’t want to do…all because I love her.
Ace lay still in the bathroom while Brooklyn continued to lather his face with the wet bandages, dipped in some home-made flour batter. The crap was drying his skin out, and he was warned that if he moved one more time, she’d inflict physical harm. He couldn’t speak, only listen, and that was fine by him since his protests had gone on deaf ears.
“…And that’s when my brother, Earlwood Jr., said he liked the green one better anyway!” She laughed, her stories of fun days spent with her family sweet and endearing that evening. She relished speaking about her family, about the good times, before she found out what her father was really made of.
“Mmmm!” He sounded like a mummy as the plaster of Paris mess dried even further onto his face.
The woman rolled her eyes, annoyed by his antics, but he didn’t give a damn. He was thirsty! He pointed to the water bottle on the sink counter.
“You can’t drink right now. Just fifteen minutes, babe.” Then she did the unthinkable. She got off her knees and walked out, leaving him there to his own devices. He refused to allow her to do his body. He didn’t want that shit all over his cock and ass.
What if it dried in the crack?! I’d never be able to shit again!
His arms draped over the tub, he sat there, looking at his stretched and warped reflection in the chrome bathtub fixtures. His legs, clad in jeans, looked extremely long, while his head looked tiny and warped, as if wrapped in snow. He wanted to laugh so bad, his bare stomach caved with the effort to hold it in. If the mask peeled sooner than necessary, Brooklyn would be piping hot, and worse yet, she’d insist he do it all over again. No, he couldn’t have that, so he settled down once and for all and made do with a small smile when he heard her put on some music.
Ahhh, Hi-Tek, ‘The Sun God’…
~***~
“You’ve never watched Dick Tracey?”
Ace thumbed his nose and leaned back on the couch as the woman pushed the buttons on the remote control.
“No, and give me my remote control, back. You’re going too far.” He lunged for it, but the little heathen jumped to her feet, escaping his grasp. He cleared his throat and leaned back onto the pillow, crossing his arms over his chest.
“How could a private eye not watch Dick Tracey?!” The woman was truly astonished, and he couldn’t believe his ears.
“I’ve heard of the damn movie, Brooklyn. I’ve seen the old books. I have no interest in it. That’s not how my job is…that’s all fairy tale shit.”
“How do you know that isn’t how your job is? You’ve never seen the movie.”
She turned back towards the television and crossed her ankles, flipping channels with one hand while the other loosely held on a kitchen towel.
“Have you seen all the movies about archaeologists?”
“I’d imagine not.” She kept surfing, grating his nerves. “Do you even know the name of a movie about any archeologists?”
“Indiana Jones…”
“You just got lucky.” She snapped the towel in his direction; he blinked, but stayed still as she turned back towards the television.
“I’ve not gotten lucky in three days…” he whispered, then bit his bottom lip as he ran his palm over the bulge in his pants. With a sigh, he focused on her tight, high ass moving about in her pants. His face broke into a mischievous grin. He glanced over at his stereo, picked up another remote and turned it on.
Daft Punk sang, ‘Get Lucky.’
Before she knew it, the television went black. The blue and white lights from the stereo gave slight illumination to her form.
“What the?” She looked at the remote control in her hand and tapped it, then pointed it back at the television, trying to turn the damn thing on. He lay there watching her, stifling his laughter at the fact he’d managed to grab his spare television remote, without her seeing him.
“Come here,” he said gruffly, the living room now shadowed in darkness, minus the burning embers of his cigarette as he brought it to his lips.
“What for?” He could hear the defiance in her voice. This was the wrong time to play games.
“Stay there, then…”
“Ahhhh!” She screamed out when he got on the ground and grabbed her ankles. She clumsily fell down, and the wrestling ensued. “No!” She giggled, now fully aware of his intentions. “Ace, stop…Stop it!” She laughed louder as he tugged at her pink and silver checkered pajama pants, almost tearing them off her damn body.
“Good…no panties.” He caressed her hips with hungry hands as she settled in his grasp. “Another movie featuring an archeologist was, ‘Tomb Raiders.’ In this version, it’s called, ‘Panty Raiders.’”
The woman burst out in laughter and began to squirm in his grip again, then, just like that, as if a light were switched, she gave out a sigh and moan when he placed his wide, open mouth, upon her love, sucking hard while caressing her partially exposed stomach. Her tank top had ridden up in all of the commotion, and he delighted in the feel of her satiny skin as he devoured her pussy, over and over.
“Uh…ahhhh…” Her legs relaxed as he worked her over, sucking, licking and tasting her completely. Reaching low, she gripped his shoulders and raised her thighs. Ace lost himself in the scent of her and brought her closer and closer to the point of no return. Then, he stopped.
“What are you doing?” she protested, agitation clearly in her tone. Ace reached across the nearby couch, and grabbed the kitchen towel she’d snapped him with earlier. Before she could speak again, he wrapped it around her eyes, blocking out her vision.
“Now.” He rested on his knees as he laid her back down on the floor. “I want you to just feel everything I’m doing to you, and I want you to talk to me about it, to describe it…blind observation.” He rolled her shirt the rest of the way up, removed the straps from her shoulders and exposed her erect nipples. Running his fingers along her breasts, he relished seeing her swallow and sigh. Her body stirred, as if coming slowly to life.
“I want you to tell me when you really like something, or if you don’t…” He leaned over, flicked his tongue across her nipple and sucked on it, drawing it further into his mouth as he moaned against her flesh.