Audra tilts her head at me, letting that red, red hair spill down her shoulder like blood.
“If she could match you blow for blow, yeah. Maybe you would be?” I imagine a recipe where I'm tangled up with someone equal to me – that I can do. But if I found that person, I think I would stop spreading the gift of the taboo to my clients. If I had the right concoction, I could sate the demon with a daily dose. Or at least I think so. I've never had the opportunity to try.
“Hmm. Let's get this corpse off my couch, shall we?” I avoid the question and grab my gloves off the coffee table, slipping them on and moving over to Mark's carefully wrapped skull. Audra has done him up like a morbid Christmas gift, all neatly folded and perfectly taped. I dig around in my pocket and pull my keys out, pressing the button on my key fob that automatically opens the trunk. Quite a handy tool for loading bodies. “In the trunk, please. Let's move quickly.”
Audra opens the front door and steps onto the porch, surveying the street from the safety of the ivy covered trellises before moving back inside. It's almost as if she's done this before. Or perhaps her demon is good at camouflage. It must be, considering how tainted Audra's soul seems to be.
“You know,” she says to me as she leans down and grabs Mark by his feet. With a small grunt of effort, we hoist the body off my sofa and into the air. I do my best not to stare at the stains on the fabric. Furniture shopping seems to be an inevitable future for me. “Real friends always help you bury the bodies.” My mouth twitches; it can't be helped.
“You imagine us becoming friends, Audra?” I ask, angling so we can get the body outside without bumping into the doorjamb. Sweat is already beading on her pale slope of a forehead, beads of moisture tantalizing in the last few rays of moonlight. I can see she's struggling with the weight of her decision – physically if not mentally – so I take a moment to tease her limits, see where we're at with our newly formed relationship. “Some of my clients like to think we are, but I disagree. Even if I stay over, have a cup of tea, that doesn't mean we're buddies.” I let the last word slip off the edge of my tongue in a hiss. Audra's face remains stoic, so I press forward, just to see how far she'll let me go. “Do you honestly think I'm doing this for free? Because you have nice tits? Oh no, Miss Holiday, you're going to owe me big fucking time for this favor.”
Audra drops Mark on my lawn. On my front fucking lawn, with neighbors all around us, right smack dab in the middle of suburbia.
“You say you're not a whore, fine. Fine. I'll believe your darkness bullshit, but listen to me when I tell you that I'm no whore either.” I pretend as if her lack of care and attention to the matter isn't pissing me the fuck off, and drag Mark the last few feet to the trunk. It takes a good bend at the knees and an excruciating tightening of my stomach muscles, but I manage to haul Mark up and shove him unceremoniously into my trunk. My eyes flutter closed for a moment.
“I wasn't talking sex, Miss Holiday. Money. Cash, check, credit, fucking PayPal. I don't give a crap, but you will pay me for this.” I open my eyes and watch Audra panting on the grass, still wearing her heels, still gorgeous as sin. Her skin is practically glowing in the moonlight, so pale she truly lives up to the definition of white. But she isn't pasty, Miss Holiday looks like a vampire from a black and white movie. Her face is sculpted to please the eye, perfectly symmetrical, and well-balanced. Her large eyes make up for the generous swell of her lips, and her pert nose plays into the overall composure of her features. Like a painting. Like a sculpture. Like an arrogant bitch with an attitude problem. My dick reassures me that Audra is a good choice, that if her mouth felt that good then her tight, little cunt will feel so much better. “And then you'll call me after. Maybe not tomorrow but soon. In a week or two. You'll beg me to come and show you things you've only dreamed of.”
“I've been to some BDSM clubs in my day. You'd be hard-pressed to shock me.” Audra crosses her arms over her ample chest as I slam the trunk closed and brush my gloved hands off on my slacks. No amount of wet wipes will be able to make me feel clean, not until this corpse is gone and the danger of being discovered has passed. I still have to bury the damn thing, and then I have to deal with Mrs. Braxton. I'm going to need a dozen scalding showers to recover from this. How I hate being fucking dirty. Well, physically anyway.
“Bondage? Dominance? Sadomasochism? Please. The taboo isn't just about the act; it's not about chains or whips or spankings.” I move across the lawn quickly, sweeping my arm around Audra's waist and drawing her throat to my lips. She resists but only just so there's a front of refusal. When my teeth meet her flesh, she goes limp in my arms. I don't bite hard – not yet. I require all of my clients to be tested – regularly. Before any blood is exchanged between us, I'll have her results and she'll have mine. It's only fair. I intend to die someday, but not by disease. I'm too stubborn to go out that way.
“Then what is it?” Audra whispers as I graze her flesh, move up to her ear and allow my breath to wend its way into her brain. Her red hair tickles my face and draws my darkness to the surface, like a monster summoned from the depths of the Loch Ness. Only this beast isn't just a fable; he is oh so real and twice as deadly. “What is it about?” I feel Audra's hands on my chest, pushing me back. I oblige but only because we have other things to do. That, and I'm standing on my front lawn, on my turf, a place I haven't ever brought a single client or woman. Oh yes, I'm the typical bad boy. So naughty – no girls at home. Not until I find “The One”. I try my best not to scoff. The simple fact here is that my neighbors are early to bed, early to rise kind of folks. Soon enough, Mr. Kadege will be jogging past my front window. I want Audra – and most especially Mark – out of here before then.
I glance over my shoulder.
Besides, you never know who might be looking. Robbie's house is dark enough now, but what happens when she wakes up, starts to get ready for school? I shiver and push her from my thoughts. She's a simple nuisance and nothing more. Nothing fucking more.
I look back at Audra Holiday. She's standing there with her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around her chest, hugging herself like it'll chase the monster away. It doesn't. Trust me, I've tried. I sigh and let some of the tension in my chest out, feel the tightness of my muscles, the rigid line of my dick straining against my pants. He's an insatiable bastard.
“Let's get in the car, shall we? We can talk then.” I move over to the passenger's side of my Chrysler 300, opening the door for Audra, like a true gentleman. I'm not exactly a 'nice guy', so I may as well be polite. She narrows her green eyes at me, a look of distrust flashing across her perfect features. Audra Holiday isn't used to men being nice to her. How sad.
I close the door gently, trying to minimize the amount of noise. With one last glance over at Robbie Carrell's house, I move back to the driver's side and climb in.
“Where are we going?” Audra asks after awhile. I've been enjoying the silence, but I can tell it's killing her slowly. For the first five minutes, she sat stone still, eyes glazed over, like she was afraid of the dark. Then she started to fidget. I despise fidgeting, but I let it go, if only to study her movements. Audra swept her hands down her short dress, adjusted the fabric, touched her hair, wet her lips. And now she's making small talk. I mull over her words for a moment and decide it's a valid enough question to answer.
“To the gloriously bedizened abode of Mrs. Clarice Braxton.” I pause at a red light, the corner of my mouth rising in a smirk. Look at me, Lucas Carter, obeying all the simple, insignificant traffic laws. I never speed, never roll through a stop sign, never park on the wrong side of the street. The best way to commit felonies without being caught is to make sure you don't commit any misdemeanors along the way. It all goes back to my sense of balance, of keeping one part of my life squeaky clean while the other is ridiculously filthy. “She's a client of mine, one who happens to own almost sixty acres of forested land.”
Audra mulls this information over for a moment, turning her gaze out the front windshie
ld. The street lights flicker across her face like stripes, highlighting the perfection of her skin¸ the lack of blemishes, the sharp angles of her cheeks.
“You trust her?” she asks, and I laugh. The second time tonight. Interesting. Audra flicks her gaze back to my face, eyes narrowing again. I don't bother to explain myself, but just the simple idea of putting my faith in Mrs. Braxton is amusing. That whore couldn't hold a secret in her loose little cunt if her life depended on it. I've already had more than a dozen social calls from her birdbrained friends, those despicable fucking socialites who think their shit smells like roses. As if I'd ever deign to pay any of them a visit. That's just one of the many reasons I'm considering cutting Clarice off. But after tonight. It has to be after tonight.
I think about having sex with her, and my stomach squirms. Honestly, if this whole charade hadn't happened, I probably would've cut the bitch off the next time she called. Clarice is getting one visit too many from my monster. Hmm.
“She has no idea what I'm planning on doing, and I intend to keep it that way.” I turn onto a suburban street not unlike my own. It's a few blocks from the ritzy neighborhood where Clarice lives, the perfect distance to determine her dedication to me. I park the car and pull out my phone. Mrs. Braxton answers on the second ring.
“Lucas,” she breathes, her voice so sticky sweet with desperation that my lip curls. Audra doesn't miss the expression, even as I wipe it from my face. “I did what you said. I turned off all the cameras and sent the staff home.” She pauses, and in her next sentence, I hear the disgust that was just on my own face mirrored in her words. “Mr. Braxton is spending the night with his paramour, so … ” Clarice trails off and sniffles dramatically. “It'll just be you and me.” I try not to shiver; I don't need Audra Holiday reading me like a goddamn book. As far as she's concerned, I love sliding my cock into Clarice's slick pussy. “Can I come home now? This party's winding down, and everyone else already has a partner.” I hear the loneliness in her voice, the echo of that blackness she carries deep, deep down.
“Not yet,” I tell her firmly, keeping my gaze away from Audra and out the driver's side window. The house nearest us already has its lights on, and I can see people bustling around behind the sheer curtains, shadows of a life I'll never live. I romanticize the idea of a normal life for a moment, thinking on what it would've been like if Aliyah had never died, if the monster had never been born, if my darkness had stayed shriveled in the glow of her beautiful light. “I have to prepare things first.” Clarice whimpers, and I can just imagine her Botox infused little lips jiggling with the sound. “If you step foot inside the gates before I give you the go-ahead, I'll leave and I won't come back. Do you hear me, you miserable, pathetic, little slut?” I let my true hatred for Clarice show in my voice. She loves it when I talk dirty to her, so it's more of a boon than an insult in her mind. I wonder how she'd feel if she knew I meant every word of it?
“Yes, Lucas,” she whispers, and I smile.
“Say a nasty word for me, Clarice,” I command, enjoying the sudden tension across the line. “The foulest, most disgusting thing you can think of.” I wait for a moment, savoring the silence between us. Clarice sniffles.
“Twat,” she gulps, and then hangs up the phone. I very nearly throw the damn thing out the window and say to hell with it all; I'll bury the bastard somewhere else. But there is nowhere else, and time is running out. Even as I glance out the front windshield, the sun is baring its orange head, peeping through the gray-blue clouds of night.
“Twat,” I repeat, looking over at Audra. She's studying me in a way I don't like. I'm going to have to find my way under her skin again, analyze her to the point of discomfort. Remain in control. That's what I need to do. “Is that the dirtiest word you can think of?” Audra frowns at me, her full lips so plump and luscious that I have to actually fight an urge to lean over and bite at them.
“Cunt. Cock. Pussy. Dick.” Audra shrugs. “I think those are worse.” She leans back against the leather seat with a sigh, closing her eyes and sliding her hands up her own shoulders until she's gripping the headrest behind her. I watch Audra for a moment, trying to decipher her mood, her actions. She doesn't seem to feel any remorse for Mark's death, nor does she seem all that scared of being caught. Good. I don't like jumpy clients.
“Any of which would have been preferable,” I say, starting up the car and wishing I didn't have to do this. What a pain. “But her transgressions are almost nothing compared to yours, don't you think?” I ask, prompting Audra to get angry again. I don't know why, but it bothers me how comfortable she's acting right now, like she belongs here, in my car with me. We've only just met, and I have clients I've known for years that I don't like to act that way.
“Why?” she snaps, sitting up suddenly and spinning to face me. I notice Miss Holiday has forgone a seat belt. Interesting. Yet another sign of how little she cares for herself. “Because I did what you were going to do anyway?” I scoff. I try not to, but the emotion slips.
“I would've done a much better job of it.”
She laughs at me, actually laughs at me. I slam on the brakes and turn to face her, my car idling in the middle of an empty street. I'm seething, practically foaming from the mouth, like some kind of animal, like a beast, like a rabid wolf. I slam my back into the seat and close my eyes, straightening my shirt and taking a deep breath. What is it with this woman? I don't hate her like I do Clarice or Pamela, but she infuriates me like no one else.
“And you have an anger problem,” Audra breathes, her mouth strangely close to my ear. When I open my eyes, I can see us in the rearview mirror, faces precariously perched, just inches from one another. I want to wrap my hands around her slender throat, thrust my cock deep inside of her. Instead, I go still, like a dead man, like a corpse, a bloodless sack of flesh. I go so still that Audra hesitates, licking her lips and pausing with her fingers just millimeters from the tender flesh of my wrist.
“Hardly,” I say, and the word echoes strangely in the enclosed space of the car.
“Pamela says you kick her around, make her lick the floor clean with her tongue, force her to masturbate for you. But she never said anything about this rage.” Audra's fingers clamp around my wrist and I hiss in a breath between my teeth. Strangely enough, I think of Isadora, the way she always touched me with such tentative fingers, like I was breakable. Audra clutches at me like I'm the opposite. Strangely, I imagine myself somewhere in between. “She never told me that you were off your fucking rocker.”
“I assure you, I'm quite sane.” I reach over to Audra's fingers with my left hand and pry them off, enjoying the silky texture of her skin much more than I rightfully should. “Even though Pamela is a blustering idiot, she listens. You, on the other hand, have a mouth on you.”
“Oh, boo,” Audra says, pouting her lips and rising up to her knees, leaning closer to me. Her breasts brush against my upper arm, tantalizing even with the bit of fabric between us. “Poor little woman has a mouth on her. Should I just be seen and not heard then?” I watch as Audra drops her hands to my pants, freeing my cock from inside with a skillful touch. She doesn't fumble at my slacks like some girls, just masterfully opens them and watches hungrily as I burst free.
“It has nothing to do with you being a woman. Believe me, I know women are the superior half of our species. I just think you have more bark than you do bite. I see a sad, sad girl with a dirty past and a miserable future. I think you'd do well to listen to me.” Audra's hand wraps around my cock, squeezing tight, drawing a small growl from my throat. A growl. A sound. I don't make sounds. I choke back another and pretend I'm allowing this to happen from a practical perspective, that I'm simply interested in learning more about my potential new client.
You're in the middle of the street, Lucas, I tell myself. With a body in your trunk. It's still early enough that you're conspicuous driving around in this neighborhood. I ignore my more intelligent side, letting the demons take over, listening to them howl i
nside my heart as Audra works her magic. Her fingers glide along my shaft with an expert touch, arousing my body to within an inch of my own sanity. My right hand comes up and curls in her hair, wrapping the silken red tendrils around my knuckles as I force her head down, jam my cock into her hot, eager little mouth.
Mmm. A moan threatens to escape me, and I clamp down on it, pushing it back, struggling to regain control. This doesn't happen to me. It just doesn't. Fuck Audra Holiday. Fuck Robbie Carrell. I don't like people getting the upper hand with me. It doesn't sit well. And this? What is this? Am I getting a blow job from a woman because I want one?
Audra's plump, nubile ass is raised up, pressed against the glass on the passenger's side of the car. I imagine anyone driving by will get a rather startling view. I press my hand down on the back of her head, forcing her to deep throat my cock. Audra's wild moans fill the car as I release the brake and put my foot on the gas. The warm wrap of her lips is intoxicating, taking me back to places I haven't been in a long, long time. I almost forgot how good it felt to have sex for simple, animalistic pleasure. I let biology take its natural course, enjoying the way Audra struggles to swallow with so much cock in her mouth, her saliva dripping down my shaft and sliding across my tightened sack. Oh yes, my mind coos, caressing my psyche with old memories. You always did enjoy having your dick sucked. I'd almost forgotten. How sad is that?
I manage to stay under the speed limit, sliding up to the gate of the Braxton's palatial monstrosity with an orgasm simmering beneath my cocky smile. I roll my window down and punch in the key code, fighting my body's natural urge to come, to spill my seed in Audra's throat. She asked for proof of my prowess. Well, sweetheart, be careful what you wish for.
When Audra tries to come up for air, I push her back down, gliding the Chrysler around the paved driveway and over to the gravel road that winds through the trees. The Braxtons use this path for their horse and carriage rides. Yes, they have their very own set of white steeds – all stallions – and a whole team of people to care for them. Personally, I think the Braxton's horses are all wicked nasty creatures, nothing like the gentle brown beauties my mother used to raise.
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