Taboo Unchained

by C. M. Stunich

  “Why? Do you miss me?” I do my best not to scowl. If I let myself go down that path, there's no telling how deep I'll go. I don't want to end up like Audra, waking up with blood on my hands and no idea of what I've done. I always know my sins. If I can't be intimate with my dark side, what do I have left?

  When the silence between us has stretched long enough to make things uncomfortable, Clarice begins grasping at straws.

  “Fuck me with your hard, thick dick, Lucas Carter. And strangle me while you're doing it. I want to see stars.” Clarice giggles, not like a twenty something trophy wife who spends her days attending charity events and spending her husbands absurdly vast fortune, but like a teenage girl who's been caught with her boyfriend's hand up her shirt. I truly despise Clarice Braxton.

  “Erotic asphyxiation is a topic best left for another day.” I pause, listening to the sound of running water from my guest bathroom. It feels like a violation of my life that a client is here, in my house, using my sink, my toilet, touching my soap and my hand towels. I keep my professional life separate from my personal life. I somehow get the feeling that my house is tainted with my darkness now. With Audra's darkness. My frown deepens. “Where are you?”

  “At a party,” Clarice says which is ridiculously unhelpful. “At Don and Denise Morton's place. There's a … a thing. But, um, my husband is busy with Don and Denise up in their room right now, so you know, I'm free … ”

  “I need a favor from you, Clarice,” I tell her, interrupting the woman before I can change my mind about what I'm going to offer. I almost feel as if I'm selling out. It doesn't make much sense, but it's true. Clarice is my client, yes, and I've had sex with her before, but it was within my own parameters, by my own choice. This feels forced, like I honestly and truly have no choice. For the first time in my life, I really do feel like a whore. And all because of a woman named Audra Holiday, a woman who blacks out and wakes up with blood on her hands, a woman that makes me feel like a shadow against her darkness. “I want the staff at your place sent home for the night, the security cameras turned off.” Clarice starts to talk, but I cut her off. “I want the combination to the gate, and I want you to keep yourself and Mr. Braxton gone until I say otherwise.” I can already feel Clarice nodding against the phone, so eager that I get sick to my stomach. I don't think she has any clue what I'm up to, nor should she. I assume she's going to believe this is some sort of trick of mine.

  I suppose it'll have to be.

  “You do that,” I continue, lowering my voice, reaching up to the top button of my shirt and flicking it open, “and I may very well be waiting for you when you get home.” I push my fingers under the crisp white fabric, feeling my own skin, letting the sensual brush of my hand over my nipple turn my words to fire. “And even though you royally pissed me off yesterday, I'll only charge my usual fee.”

  “Yes, Lucas,” Clarice whispers as my head snaps up, gaze drawn to the bathroom door and the slowly turning handle. “Whatever you want.” As Clarice rattles off the security code for the front gate, Audra steps from the bathroom, her hair slightly less tangled, her makeup touched up, and that splotch of blood by her temple conspicuously absent. The sight of her sets me aflame again and soon my hand isn't just satisfied with touching my nipples. I unbutton the rest of the shirt while Audra freezes, like an animal caught in the headlights. Her green eyes follow my fingers almost defiantly, pupils dilating in response to the motion. I can't help myself; I get downright fucking cheeky.

  “One last thing, Clarice,” I say before I hang up. Her breath flutters into the line, heavy with sexual desire and desperation. She wants me so badly, I can practically feel it. The whole thing makes me sick to my stomach. I don't necessarily care if my clients like the sex, if they find me attractive, but it should be the darkness that comes first. Sometimes I wonder if Clarice's is so minimal that she doesn't even notice it anymore. It may very well be time to cut her off. After tonight, of course. “Say cunt. I want to hear it from your lips, right now. Make it bold,” I whisper, finishing with the last button and opening up my pants. I slide my cock free and grip it tight, enjoying the way Audra stumbles towards me, like a zombie drawn to raw flesh. Careful, your darkness is showing. “Make it loud,” I breathe as Audra tucks her red hair behind her ears and drops to her knees in front of me. Just like that. We haven't discussed price yet, but that's okay. I'll let her suck my dick for free.

  “Carter,” Clarice whines, and I swear on all that is unholy and wrong in this world that I almost fucking lose it. My mind is now officially made up. After tonight, Clarice is gone. Done. I think it's time for her to move on anyway. Our encounters are getting dangerously close to kink, and I don't do kink.

  Instead of getting angry, I keep my focus on Audra's head, her red hair that gleams like blood under the dim lighting from beside the fireplace. I kept all the main lights off to keep attention away from my house and make sure that nobody gets it into their heads that I'm awake or even home to answer the door. You mean so Robbie stays away? The thought swirls like a brilliant streak of color in my head before I clamp down on it and toss it away. Instead I focus on Audra's freshly rouged lips as they part around the head of my cock.

  Her hot breath teases my bare skin, drawing a quick breath from my throat. It's as close to a moan of pleasure as Clarice has ever heard from me. Right away, her demeanor changes, and she melts into the phone like she's made of clay. Moldable. Shapeable. The most malleable of substances.

  I try not to smirk as I curl the fingers of my free hand in Audra's hair. With a wild groan, she throws herself onto me, sliding my dick as deep into her throat as she can get. And oh yes, Miss Holiday knows how to deep throat like the best of them. My mouth curves up at the corners as Clarice babbles onto the line, desperately seeking my attention. She knows I've got another woman with me and instead of being jealous, all she can think about is how to win me back. If my status as a god was ever in question, it certainly isn't now. The beast purrs inside of me with pleasure. I'm in control again, and nothing in this world is better.

  “Okay, okay. Cunt.” Clarice whispers the word, which annoys me, but I'm tired of dealing with her, so I hang up and toss the spare phone – an older model I was fortunate to have lying around – onto the coffee table. In my enjoyment of the moment, I'd almost forgotten about Mark's corpse lying a few feet away, wrapped in a blanket, dirty sneakers sticking out the end. It's not a particularly attractive thing to have around – actually, it's quite gross – but I can't stop. The demons won't let me stop.

  I keep a firm pressure on the back of Audra's head, shoving my dick deep into her throat. Her beautiful body looks divine from up above, her shapely calves curving back, her high heels gaping away from her porcelain feet. She's as dark as I am, maybe darker, but she doesn't stay quiet like I do. Audra is a chorus of grunts and moans, whispers of pain against the bare shaft of my cock. She isn't touching herself though, not like I'd first thought. Instead her hands are curled in the black fabric of my slacks, hanging on with a tense anxiety and desperation that hints at her future needs. Own me. That's what Audra's posture, her whimpers, her hot dirty mouth, all say to me. No, not just say. Beg. She's begging me to own her, chain her demon down and put it on a leash. That's my specialty, locking the beast away, so it can't hurt anyone or anything without permission. Based on her behavior today, Audra Holiday desperately needs this.

  I clamp both hands on the back of her skull, pounding my dick into her mouth, letting my hips fuck her face. My balls slap against Audra's chin as I pummel those full lips, letting my body take control of the motion. She doesn't complain, relaxing her throat and breathing so heavily through her nose that the breath tickles my shaft and brings me to a full orgasm before I'm ready. Miraculously, I manage to stay quiet, blowing my load into the back of Audra's throat, watching with wicked glee as she sits back, a string of saliva and cum attaching my cock to her lips. She wipes it away and stares at the floor.

  “That was awfully quick,�
� Audra snaps, sniffling and standing up to adjust her heels. “Pamela pays you for that?” I pretend not to hear the insult and drag a wet wipe from my pocket to clean my cock. I don't miss Audra's quickly smothered look of surprise when she sees that I'm already hard again.

  “Yes, well, I don't particularly have the time or leisure to play games right now, do I? We have,” I tuck my dick back in my pants and check my watch, “about two hours until sunrise begins. I'm not interested in carting around a dead body while my elderly neighbors are out pruning their roses.”

  “I've heard a lot of excuses in my life,” Audra says, sweeping her hair away from her face and meeting my gaze full on. I enjoy the challenge in her eyes, the flicker of defiance coupled with a strange hypocritical acceptance. “But hey, baby, we got a dead man up in here sounds a hell of a lot more likely than I was tired or I got shit to do.” Audra's imitation of her past lovers sounds suspiciously like the late Mark. She must have a very specific breed of lowlife trash she goes for.

  I smirk at her and step forward, running my fingers down the side of her face.

  “If you want proof of my prowess, I'm more than willing to give it, but first you're going to deal with the mess you made. We'll discuss payment later.” Audra scoffs at me, stepping back as I approach the couch. Her voice, when she next speaks, is full of challenge.

  “Payment? Fuck, you should be paying me for that shit.”

  “Are you a prostitute, Miss Holiday?” I ask, bending down and peeking underneath the afghan. Mark's visage hasn't changed much in death. He still looks sloppy and useless, a failure of a man if I've ever seen one. The smell is absolutely toxic – a mixture of old blood and shit. I feel my hard-on wither away inside my slacks.

  “Obviously not. That's your gig, isn't it?” I stand up and wad my used wet wipe up in my hand. Getting angry with this woman won't get me far. Besides, I don't intend to make losing control a regular habit. I move past Audra, purposely ignoring her, and dump the wipe in the trash. Then I bend down and retrieve two pairs of rubber gloves and a second box of garbage bags from under the sink. I don't intend for Mark to ever be found, but if he is, I'd like to minimize the already blatant trail of DNA evidence slathered about his person.

  “Put the gloves on, Miss Holiday.” I toss a pair of the yellow gloves at her chest and move back to the couch, peeling the afghan away and exposing the full, bloody glory of Mark's corpse. He has multiple stab wounds – most of which originate around the area of his crotch. There are a few well-placed ones on the left side of his chest, and a clean gash to the throat. From my observations, I get a picture of wild frenzy followed by cool calculated risk. Scary. Audra Holiday really is a beast.

  “You can just call me Audra. And you're Lucas, right? Nice to fucking meet you.” Audra steps up beside me, snapping the gloves over her delicate hands. She takes a deep breath and starts with step one of her foray into the darkness – deferring to me. “So, what's the plan?”

  I hand her the garbage bags.

  “Unfortunately, neither you nor I have a large vehicle. Much as I'd like to conceal Mark in a less conspicuous wrapping, we don't have much choice. Cover him in the bags and tape them up with this.” I move over to the built-in wood cabinets next to the fireplace and pull out a roll of duct tape. This is where I keep all of my work supplies, and duct tape is a very essential part of my life. I go through three or four rolls a month, at least. Faux kidnappings, pretend muggings, rape role play. All good places for this sinfully black tape. Believe it or not, kids, duct tape was not invented so you could make trashy little wallets and hideous handbags out of it.

  I toss the roll to Audra, noticing the slight sheen of sweat on her face, the ashen quality of her skin.

  “Lesson one, Audra,” I begin, stressing her name, enjoying the way it sizzles off the tip of my tongue like an ember. “Real monsters clean up their own messes. If you're ballsy enough to do the deed, you're adult enough to take responsibility for it.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I turn off the porch light and step outside, closing the door behind me. As expected, it's dead silent out here. The joggers and early bird gardeners won't be up for at least another hour. If we can get Mark in the car and get on our way before then, we'll be ahead of the game. Right now, though, I have a very specific mission in mind.

  Robbie.

  My throat gets tight, but I don't react the way I want to. I don't punch the wall of the house or start tearing the ivy from the lattice work. I don't smash the porch light or take a rock from the garden and break the window of my car. All of the above sounds good when I think of my neighbor and her bright, blue eyes. Round, speckled with spots of darker color, like a robin's egg. Her brunette hair is like chocolate, and her lips like strawberries. A feast. That's what Robbie Carrell is. A fucking feast. One that I can never partake in.

  I move across the yard and hop the small fence between our properties, edging along the side of the house until I get to the backyard. I tell myself I'm only checking on Robbie because she's a real threat, an unknown. Like Audra Holiday, Robbie Carrell is one of only a handful of people who've managed to surprise me. Her confession is still ringing in my ears, echoing around my skull and making me question myself.

  I don't like it. Not one bit.

  I don't want to move, but if Robbie becomes an issue, I will. Hopefully this is just a little crush, one of the fleeting whims that comes with being a teenager. Somehow, though, I don't think that it is.

  I find a ladder, carefully positioned beneath a window, one that still has the lights on. If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was an invitation. More than likely it's there because Robbie's father's been on the roof lately, making repairs. It would be so easy to climb up the rungs, look in her window and find out for sure what she's up to. Instead, I grab a rock from the pebbled pathway and toss it at the glass. A wave of nostalgia washes over me, like I'm drenched in black and white and old romanticism, like if we were in another place or another time, Robbie and I could be lovers.

  I try not to scoff as I duck behind a rather robust hazelnut bush, pausing with one knee in the dirt. It only takes a split second for Robbie to come to the window. She's illuminated by the golden glow of her bedroom light, limned in a ring of brightness that makes her shimmer like an angel. If Robbie is indeed an angel, then I am at least a demon, if not the Devil himself.

  My heart picks up the pace, teasing me with an erratic thumping I haven't felt in years. Goddamn it, Robbie. She's dressed much more casually than I've ever seen her, in a white shift with a low neckline, dripping with lace. Elegant, understated. Sinfully sexy. If I'd seen Robbie dressed like this before, I wouldn't have underestimated her age. Still. I pinch my wrist with my nails, drawing blood. Just because she's legal doesn't mean it's acceptable for me to lust after her. I want to see that childlike innocence in Robbie. It gives me hope for the world. Even her confession was painfully innocent. Luke, I like you.

  I'm so wrapped up in my own head that I don't see the redness around her eyes at first, the wet streaks on her rosy cheeks. Robbie leans forward, crossing her arms on the windowsill, letting her chocolate hair catch the light morning breeze. Her blue eyes look dark from where I stand, like the depths of the sea, places where the sun never shines. Robbie's gaze travels over the backyard and then flickers, ever so slightly, towards my house. Her breath catches painfully in her chest, a gasp of hurt that I know I'm personally responsible for. Good. Robbie should run as far from me as she can get, forget that she ever had a crush on the strange man next door. The monster inside of me hisses, begging for a taste of that fresh blood on its tongue.

  I pinch myself harder.

  After a moment, Robbie retreats back inside her room and shuts off the lights. I wait for a few, frantic, irregular heartbeats before I rise to my feet and edge back along the house. I hop the fence and head up the porch steps to find that the front door is locked.

  My lips quirk into a smile. Good girl, Miss Holiday. I knock three times in
quick succession and wait. After a moment, she lets me in. My cock thickens at the sight of her, with her red hair and dark green eyes. Audra is a beautiful woman, nearly flawless in her physical perfection. Yes, she could use a lesson or two on applying makeup, doing her hair, dressing more tastefully. Or maybe that's just me being picky. I am horribly fucking selective.

  “I didn't want anyone walking in on me,” Audra explains unnecessarily, stepping aside for me to come in. I watch her as she closes the door behind me. I can still feel the hard pressure of her lips around my dick, feel the heat of her mouth and the graze of porcelain teeth. Mmm. I'd like to shove Audra to her knees again, thrust my cock into her mouth and let her taste me. First though, I suppose we should deal with the fucking elephant in the room. My dear friend, Mark, who can't seem to stop getting in my way, is fully wrapped in black plastic. It's a coffin suited to his person, I have to say. What a pathetic asshole. After tonight, I'll wash my hands of this prick, and it's doubtful I'll ever hear anything about him again. People like Mark disappear all the time; it won't even make the news. That is, if anyone even actually notices that he's missing. “It'd be awfully fucking awkward if your girlfriend showed up in the middle of all this.” My mouth hitches up into a wicked grin and laugher explodes from my throat. It's as rare an emotion as any other, and it surprises me. I don't let Audra see that. For all she knows, I'm a maniacal chortler.

  “Oh, honey,” I whisper, leaning in and taking a sizzling kiss from Audra's lips. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and my entire body crackles with need. Who the fuck is this woman? I lean back and keep my composure intact. A kiss. Yet another rarity for me. Is it really Audra who's getting to me? Robbie? Mark? No, no. Definitely not Mark. “If I had a girlfriend, do you think I would be in the business of worshipping the darkness?”