Blank Slate

by Olivia Saxton

  “You know I . . . will,” he groaned. “Ah.”

  “Yes!” she shouted as her body arched, and his dick throbbed in her.

  “Oh, I’m coming for . . . you . . . oh, yeah.”

  Layla blew out as her body relaxed. “Hmm,” she sighed.

  Carter let out a victorious exhale. “How you feelin’, sweetheart?” he said in a raspy tone.

  “Great,” she said as stretched across the bed.

  “Now, if that was good. You know the real thing would blow your mind,” he oozed in a deep, relaxed tone.

  She giggled. “You are incorrigible.”

  He laughed. “Take a hot bath. Get some rest. When you’re ready to talk again, give me a call. I’ll be here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye, sweetheart.”

  “Bye,” she said sweetly.

  The line clicked.

  Layla let her cell fall out of her hand. A hot bath was a good idea. She started pulling herself off the bed. That’s when she noticed the heart-shaped necklace a few feet away from her on the comforter. Guilt flooded her. Then a memory flashed in her mind. No, it was the virgin fantasy she had of Carter a few weeks ago, but it felt more real – more precise. She could see the Washington monument out the balcony doors. All of a sudden, Carter was naked and on top of her. She was in pain; a slight pinching in her womanhood. He started rubbing her tummy to comfort her. “Hold on, sweetheart, I know it’s uncomfortable and tight. It supposed to feel that way at first,” he said with strained pleasure in his tone and sparkles in his eyes.

  “Oh, my God,” she mumbled as the memory continued to rush back to her. “My first time really was with Carter.”

  The revelation rocked her as the memory ended with Carter throwing his head back and her digging her nails into his shoulders. She stood. It was like she was moving in slow motion as she pulled on her shorts and panties. After she carefully placed the necklace on her cherry wood vanity table, she pulled the comforter off the bed. Since she had cum all over the spread, she took it down downstairs and put it in the washing machine.

  She was moving normally again as she was going back up the stairs, Layla wiped her face with her hand and looked at the clock. She had an hour before the maid arrived, so she drew a bath in the Jacuzzi tub. She had the kitchen and all the bathrooms remodeled a few weeks after they bought the house. Layla had wanted a big tub because she had hoped she and Damien would share it. He had felt uncomfortable taking a bath with her for some reason. So she took hot bubble baths alone.

  The water warmed her yellowish, urban skin. Her skin felt hotter as she dragged the red sponge over her arms. The sponge turned into a man’s touch as she dragged it over her neck. Alec was kissing her neck as he was laying her down on a full-sized bed. The walls were – wood. They were in a cabin. They were slowly undressing each other as they kissed. Then she realized something. They weren’t young like they were in her previous recollections. There wasn’t much difference about their appearance as they were in the present. This had to have happened recently, like within the last four or five years, but she wasn’t entirely sure. They grinded together as she felt every part of his throbbing meat in her. Her lips were swollen from the breathtaking kisses he lavished on her. Then her breasts bounced wildly as her hands ran through his short brown hair. It was the same two-layered cut he had now; a little thick at the top and lightly buzzed in the back. Layla could literally feel the softness of his hair through her fingertips. This had happened. But when? Was it before she met Damien or after?

  A ringing noise made the memory fade away. It was her cell phone. She had set it on a small stool that was next to the tub. She quickly dried her hand on the washcloth she hadn’t used yet and answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, baby,” Damien said with glee in his voice.

  “Hi, are you coming home for lunch?” When he usually called in the middle of the day, it was to tell her he was coming home for lunch so she could have something prepared.

  “No. I called to let you know that the chairman of the California Neurology Association called me. They’re having their yearly conference in LA this year, and the doctor who was doing the keynote address had to cancel at the last minute. Guess who they want to give the keynote?”

  Layla grinned. “You.”

  “Yep,” he said proudly.

  “That’s wonderful. When’s the conference?”

  “That’s the catch. You see, the conference is tomorrow at eleven a.m.”

  “What?”

  “My secretary got me a flight, and it leaves at five a.m., so I’ll need to get to the airport by four at the latest.”

  “Damien, Thanksgiving is Thursday.”

  “I’ll be back on Wednesday evening. The conference is only one day.”

  All kinds of things can happen when traveling by plane during the holidays. His flight could get canceled and then he’d be stranded at the airport.

  “Baby, I know it’s last minute, and it’s almost Thanksgiving, but I can expand my network all the way to the West Coast by doing this one conference.”

  She decided to keep quiet. No man liked a nagging, whiney wife. “I’m so proud of you, and I understand. You’ll still be here for the holiday.”

  “You bet I will, and we’ll still have dessert at the Smith’s.”

  “Good.”

  “So, do you mind packing some things for me?”

  “Don’t I always pack for you?” she said sweetly.

  He chuckled. “You do. And do you mind driving me to the airport, so I won’t have to leave my car and pay the parking fees?”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Great. I’ll be home on time tonight unless something comes up. Bye.”

  “Bye.” She clicked off.

  Layla finished taking her bath. She wrapped herself in a new terry cloth robe she had bought and walked into the bedroom. She sat down at her cherry wood vanity table to do her hair. When she looked in the mirror, she saw herself, but it wasn’t her current reflection. Her hair had the familiar auburn highlights in the front, and she had on red lipstick and dark burgundy eye shadow. She was wearing a long, black negligee with straps. The vanity was brass.

  Carter slammed into the bedroom. The king-sized bed had a gold, satin comforter. The carpet was white. The walls were off-white with crown moldings along the ceiling and halfway down the wall. There was a fire in the fireplace.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asked him through the mirror nonchalantly. She knew what he was mad about. She had found out about his little side piece across town, and she had confronted her in an . . . aggressive manner.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” he asked as he gritted his teeth. He took several steps toward her. “You kick a young lady’s door in, put a gun to her chin, and threaten her.”

  “Oh, please. You’re no one to judge me,” she said as she put thick lotion on her arms. “If the situation was turned around, someone would be dead. Not shown mercy.” She had told the little brunette if she even smelled her on Carter, she would come back.

  “Well, it’s not turned around. That girl doesn’t even feel safe in her own home!” he yelled as he took another few steps across the large master suite.

  “If you are expecting me to apologize, you’ll be waiting for hell to freeze over.”

  She felt the hair on the back of her head being yanked. Carter had grabbed her. Then he snatched her off the vanity bench by her hair. She screamed and started kicking her legs. He threw one leg over her body and grabbed her neck. Applying pressure to her jugular, he spoke. “Listen to me very carefully, Lana, because I’m only going to say this once.” His voice was low yet menacing. “I love you, but don’t you ever mess around in my affairs like this again. Do we understand each other?”

  How dare he touch her like this? She stared at him as hatefully as he stared at her and remained quiet. Then he tightened his squeeze on her neck. Struggling to breathe normally, she held her grou
nd. It was a mistake. A harsh sting hit a part of her cheek and the side of her eye as a loud whack rung around her. She screamed as she reached up and poked him in the eyes. He yelled as he let her go. She scrambled up and ran out of the bedroom.

  The memory ended, leaving Layla shocked and . . . scared. That’s when she realized that calling Carter Mitchell today could have been the biggest mistake of her life.

  Chapter 22

  Bruce was walking down the hall at the agency when his cell rang. The caller ID said it was Boon Nickels. Bruce and Alec had worked with Boon at the DC Headquarters before they transferred to Tampa.

  “Hey, Boon. What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in months,” Bruce greeted.

  “Yeah, I know I hadn’t called lately. I’ve been working sixty-hour weeks for what seemed like forever. But this isn’t a social call.”

  Bruce stopped walking and leaned against the wall. “What’s up?”

  “Carter Mitchell has been more discrete with his business dealings for the past four years. More careful, too. It’s hard as hell to keep a tap on his phone because he switches it out every so often. But this time we got lucky and got a tap on his recent phone.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah,” Boon stretched out. “Earlier today, I recorded a phone conversation between Carter and the recently found Lana Murphy.”

  “You’re kidding? He called her? How did he get her number?”

  “Actually, she called him.”

  “What?”

  Has she lost her mind?

  “Yeah, he must have given her his number at some point during their interactions in Tampa. Anyway, I sent you the audio in an email. I thought you might want to take a listen to it just in case your superior orders you guys to follow her around again.”

  Bruce nodded. Boon and Bruce were closer colleagues than Boon and Alec. So, Boon would contact Bruce before Alec. “Okay, cool. I’m only a few feet from the office now.”

  “Good, the sooner you can listen to it, the better. I . . . I haven’t played it for anyone else yet. Four years ago, I got the impression that Lana was more than an informant to you and Alec. Just . . . listen to it and call me back on what you want to do. I’ll be here until seven.”

  Bruce found the statement strange, but he went with it. “All right, I’ll call you after I listen to it.” He clicked off. Then he made his way to his office, saying hi to several of his co-workers along the way.

  He closed the door and sat down in his gray and black upholstered office chair. After shaking the computer out of sleep mode, he plugged in his headphones. He found that the sound was clearer when he listened to wire taps on headphones and not through speaker. Bruce opened his inbox and clicked on the email Boon had sent. Setting back in the chair, he clicked on the audio attachment to play it.

  He frowned as he listened to Lana telling Carter that she just wanted to hear his voice. What was she up to? Then his ears really perked up when she told Carter that she and a friend went to the gun range. Bruce wondered if it triggered some memories for her since she knew how to handle firearms. Then Carter had offered to come back to Tampa to see her.

  “Oh, shit,” Bruce groaned. This was dangerous. The last person she needed to be around was Carter Mitchell.

  When Carter had offered to come get her and her daughter for the weekend, his mouth dropped open. But Lana had politely refused, which made Bruce breathe easy again. However, he was still disturbed that she would call him to chitchat.

  Then the conversation went in a direction that galled him. Not that he was a prude, he could be a raunchy mofo in bed himself, but listening to Lana right now was like listening to his little sister getting off.

  “Ew!” he cried with disgust. His face was more shriveled than a prune.

  His door started to open.

  Bruce stopped the audio and removed his headphones.

  Alec poked his head between the crack. “Hey, do you want to go to Vic’s for a drink?”

  Vic was the agent who had an office on the seventh floor. He had been married and divorced twice, but was able to keep the house after the second divorce. Vic’s house was the ultimate bachelor’s palace. The basement had a full bar, a pool table, and professional card table. They had played many poker games and watched loads of football at his place.

  “Um, I’ll meet you guys there in forty minutes,” Bruce said.

  Alec’s eyebrow went up. “Something going on I need to know about?”

  “Nah, nah, I just need to catch up with these emails. You know how I like putting them off. I don’t want to look at them Monday morning.”

  “You’re checking your email with your headphones on?”

  “Thomas, the trainee, sent me some audio he wanted me to listen to. He wanted my suggestions on how to clean up some static.” Bruce cursed himself for lying to Alec, but he didn’t need to know about this. The last thing he needed was to listen to Lana crying out another man’s name, especially Carter’s name. The excuse about Thomas would fly because Bruce had started on the surveillance team when he first graduated from the academy. After two weeks, he decided he hated it, and he transferred into being a field agent like Alec.

  “Okay. See ya in forty,” Alec said and closed the door.

  “Whew,” Bruce breathed.

  ****

  Layla had just finished washing up the dishes from dinner. She walked through the living room. Keisha was sitting in Damien’s lap playing Patty-Cake.

  “What ya doing, Mommy?” Keisha asked.

  “I’m going to the laundry room to press some of your father’s shirts to take with him tomorrow,” she answered sweetly.

  “Is that hard to do?” Keisha asked.

  “No. All is needed is a little time and patience,” Layla answered.

  “Daddy, let’s play rock, paper, scissors now,” Keisha said.

  “All right, pumpkin,” Damien said.

  Layla smiled as she left the room. Her cell phone rang as soon as she entered the laundry room. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and was surprised to see it was Bruce.

  I didn’t think I would be hearing from him again. She figured he had saved her number when she had called him weeks ago.

  “Hello.”

  “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind!” Bruce yelled into the phone.

  She almost jumped at the abrupt greeting. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed as she rushed to close the door.

  “No, what the hell is wrong with you?” he asked back. “We need to meet before you get yourself into something you can’t get out of.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked with annoyance as she opened the door to let down the ironing board in the closet.

  “I know about your . . . contact with Carter Mitchell,” he stated seriously.

  “What?” she asked hesitantly.

  “You heard me, Lana. Why did you call him?”

  “How do you know about that?” she blurted out. “I know you’re an FBI agent, but–”

  “Hold on. You know I work for the FBI?”

  “Yes. It’s a long story, but I know you and Alec are federal agents.”

  The line went silent.

  “Bruce?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Look, we need to meet. There’s a bar called Season 52. Meet me there in an hour.”

  “I can’t. My husband is here, and it’s going to be hard for me to explain why I’m running out of the house at seven o’clock without him. But he’s leaving for LA at the crack of dawn in the morning.”

  “Good. We’ll meet then.”

  “Come to my house at nine in the morning. My address is–”

  “I know where you live. I’ll see you then.” Bruce hung up.

  Layla pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it. “Well, damn.”

  ****

  It was a few minutes to nine when Layla sat down the silver service tray on the coffee table in the den. She couldn’t remember if Bruce liked coffee or not, but
she made some, nonetheless. She had also baked cinnamon muffins. Since she had upgraded the furniture and carpet in the den when she redecorated the living room, she was no longer embarrassed to entertain guests in it. The furniture was burgundy, and she had been slowly changing the artwork to tasteful, urban, framed paintings. Layla had just put fresh flowers in a white and red vase yesterday.

  Izabella was knitting in the living room as Saturday morning cartoons played on the TV. Keisha was playing with her Barbie dolls on the floor. Of course, she had the accessories too — Barbie Glam car, the Barbie camper, and the Barbie Malibu House.

  The doorbell chimed.

  By the time Layla got to the living room, Izabella had opened the door.

  “Um, is Layla Miles here?” Bruce asked.

  “Si, señor. Come in,” she said.

  Layla rounded the corner. “Good morning, Bruce.”

  “Good morning.” He was wearing denim jeans and a black polo shirt.

  “Wow. You sure are big,” Keisha commented as she looked up at Bruce with awe.

  He chuckled.

  Bruce was indeed a big man. When he wasn’t working, he must live in the gym. “Keisha, it’s not nice to say it that way.”

  “Why not?” Bruce asked. “It’s true, and she isn’t the only female that has told me that,” he said with a smirk.

  Oh, good God. Layla rolled her eyes.

  “Um, Bruce, this is my daughter, Keisha, and this is her nanny, Izabella,” Layla introduced, hoping to stir the conversation to where there wasn’t any sexual innuendo in its tone.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet such lovely ladies. If I knew this house concealed such beauties, I would have busted the door down ages ago,” he charmed.

  To Layla’s surprise, Izabella giggled like a schoolgirl. Then, she said something in Spanish. Layla had no idea what she had said, but Bruce obviously did when he took her chubby hand and murmured something in Spanish back. Then he kissed the back of her hand.

  Izabella blushed as she giggled again.

  Keisha had a confused look on her face as she watched them with her lips pursed.