by C. S Luis
Michael signed a few spots and initialed the rest. When he was finished, Mr. West grabbed the pen from his hand.
“Great. I’ll have my secretary get you a copy and send it via email. By the way, there is one more thing,” he said as he gathered the documents from the table and placed them back into the folder.
“What’s that?” Michael asked.
“It’s nothing big, but a side note.”
Michael glared at him suspiciously. He hadn’t known Mr. West for very long, and though he had been Neil’s attorney for a long time, he had no reason not to trust him. But it was Mr. West‘s arrogance that sometimes disturbed him.
“In the event that a relative is found, there may be reasons to contest the will.”
“What? But she doesn’t have any relatives. Her parents are dead. As far as I know, Neil was her only living relative.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. It was just a minor note that had to be mentioned,” he said with a smile as he put the documents in his briefcase.
“Regarding Neil’s property…” Michael began to say.
“It’s all in the paperwork I gave you. Read through them carefully, and if you have questions then call me. Now, if there’s nothing else, I have another appointment.”
Michael nodded and rose to his feet; he stumbled to the door. He figured he could move into Neil’s house, a better space than his tiny one-bedroom apartment which would be no place for a growing teenage girl.
The attorney’s words echoed in his mind. He couldn’t understand why Neil would have added such a note to his will. Had he doubts? Perhaps neglected to tell him a possibility of such a thing?
The more he thought about it, the more he doubted his longtime friend would have believed it. But it was in the will, so the doubt lingered. After all, he had revised the will. And just what would anyone contest to? Who Claudia would live with? Wouldn’t that be her choice? She was 18, wasn’t she old enough to make that decision now? What was another year?
Michael glanced back. He meant to ask such a question, but Mr. West was already on another call, and as their eyes met again and Michael began to speak, Mr. West motioned him out the door.
And with that, Michael walked out.
Outside the office door, he looked at the folder in his hand and began to walk out of the building towards the parking lot. Now it was only the problem of who they would place as principal, an emergency substitute had been called in briefly, but there was word from the district that a more suitable replacement was on his way.
Michael only wondered who had taken the difficult task of replacing such a great man like Dr. Edwards. Whoever it was could not hold a candle to the man. Everyone was on pins and needles, literally worried sick of who they feared would be brought to manage a school that was already coming apart wall by wall, and now by one faculty member at a time. Who could possibly meet that responsibility?
The Arrival of the Man in Blue
1
The Man in Blue
He stood at 6’2’’ tall with short, straight honey brown hair neatly pushed back, and beautiful almond green eyes under his thick eyebrows. The smirk on his long face was subtle; with a simple curve that formed a fine lip which appealed to all the women.
Women loved The Man in Blue, and he loved them in return, especially the Spanish women.
He dressed the part of a gentleman which was the dress code for his line of work, but he never talked about the job, not with a woman, not with anyone. Although, the dress code always was a good point for starting a conversation.
He put the desert eagle back into the holster inside the blue suit he wore. He liked the color blue, so when asked for what name he would go by, he smiled and merely said, “The Man in Blue.”
“It suits you,” his boss had said to him.
He stood in an empty warehouse and glanced down at the figure that had stopped moving by his feet. He brought him down with a single shot, and now it was time to secure his prey.
The Man in Blue grabbed at the pocket of his suit and took out a long syringe. After removing the cap, he immediately injected the figure’s neck. The form began to struggle for a moment before it stopped. He put the cap back onto the syringe and dropped it into his suit pocket before taking out a few zip ties and securing the figure’s hands behind his back, he also bound his feet. He worked alone, and this evening was no different, just another day.
Behind, the team arrived just as he’d secured the figure on the ground. The pickup crew, The Man in Blue thought. He rose as three black SUVs surrounded him from each side.
A man in a white suit appeared from one of the black SUVs that stopped right outside of the warehouse; they were in an empty part of the Chicago downtown area that was mostly abandoned and surrounded by decaying buildings. A team emerged from one of the other vehicles, and as The Man in Blue walked away, they lifted the figure, securing him in a strange metal device. It was all mere procedure, all by the book: he took them down, whereas the team followed up, retrieved, and secured.
The sun was going down on the horizon as The Man in White now approached.
“You have my money?” The Man in Blue asked before The Man in White could say anything else.
“Transferring as we speak,” The Man in White calmly said as he stood beside the hood of the car. His pale blue eyes glared back at The Man in Blue; with a smile on his pale face. He seemed to express very little emotion, and The Man in Blue knew him to be the calmest man he had ever met, down to the very way he handled himself, but he still had a rage burning inside of him.
The white color suited him quite well, especially when combined with his bleached-blond hair and pale skin. He was the only person who could pull the color off, down to the black shirt underneath, and that burning and flashy red tie he wore.
Another figure in a black suit emerged from the vehicle with a briefcase that he opened and put on the hood of the car, and then stood aside. Inside it was a computer screen, now indicating clearance of a transfer. The Man in Blue lifted his phone and its screen indicated confirmation.
“Was he any trouble?” The Man in White asked, but The Man in Blue only walked passed him, putting his phone into his coat pocket.
“Not at all; it’s starting to get too boring and predictable,” he suddenly said.
“Of course. You continue to impress me, John,” The Man in White said with a slight smirk.
“You have five hours before the sedative wears off,” The Man in Blue said and continued to walk away without turning or looking back.
“John,” The Man in White called over to him. The Man in Blue stopped but didn’t turn. “I have another assignment for you,” continued The Man in White.
The Man in Blue turned very slowly and looked at The Man in White. His handsome face was firm as always, not a single line on his rigid, manly jaw. The honey locks sometimes fell slightly over his eyes and cheekbones when he failed to tame his mane.
“I can send you what I have. I know you have a date to keep.” The Man in White smiled.
The Man in Blue narrowed his eyes, waiting without the slightest expression on his face.
“The job is easy,” The Man in White again said.
“And I thought you had a challenge this time. I’m not interested,” The Man in Blue said, turning away.
“Not even for an easy three million?” The Man in White teased.
The Man in Blue stopped. Three million! He nearly gasped but kept his cool. What was worth three million? His boss had his attention again. He turned back around; now there was a slight smirk on his face.
“I thought you would be interested.” The Man in White grinned.
“Send me what you got,” The Man in Blue said, and then he turned and walked away, pushing back the locks of his honey brown hair.
The Man in White grinned as he watched The Man in Blue fade from his view. He now turned as the team leader approached and said, “The target is secured, sir.” The man dressed in military ge
ar said, holding an assault rifle in his hands.
“Good,” The Man in White said. “Pack up and move out. We have another assignment,” he said with a smile upon his face and climbed back into the awaiting SUV.
2
John Slater
Another job, and here, yet again hungry and ready for some pleasure, no need for names. This place was an underground establishment, my home away from home you could say. I always knew where to find them, or perhaps they always knew how to find me. This is what I wanted after a successful day’s work. The truth remains, it wasn’t a single day’s work, but actually weeks and sometimes months of long stakeouts and investigations to find the target, track him, hunt him, and then take him down. It took a lot of training to be ahead of the game.
In my line of work, I was required to have a very strict and disciplined workout routine, at least five or six days of the week. It consisted of compound, explosive exercises, power cleans, jump squats, high pulls, and explosive bench presses. These exercises helped to maintain my speed and agility. Some other good compound exercises included squats, deadlifts, and military presses. My workout also involved fat burning cardio in the form of running each day to ensure that I didn’t put on too much fat. For two or three hours every day, I made sure each meal contained quality proteins, carbs, and fats in order to help me pack on a lot of muscle mass.
I wasn’t simply the best by mere consequence.
Once that had been accomplished, it was time for some R&R, my favorite part of the job; although, it wasn’t technically part of the job but merely my reward for a job well done, Slater’s favorite part of being John.
I hated being a predictable man but I couldn’t help myself. I loved women. If I wasn’t fucking, I was hunting, which was the only thing that could keep me from thinking of fucking.
The women in the brothel already knew me; you could say I was a regular. I had been in this particular brothel before on many other occasions and during many other hunts. The doorman was a big bald white guy named Jake; he looked like a biker, except for the clean black suit and red tie he wore. He lifted his head up at me in greeting. This was Chicago and the business was booming. You had to be either known or important to be in this part of the establishment.
Jake packed a 45 Magnum, but you couldn’t tell unless he lifted his suit. I could tell, though. Jake smiled at me and made some small talk. He always did. He was comfortable, thought we were in the same line of work. He used to be a hit man, and I was in a way and yet not even close.
“I think you’d be happy to know we have a new girl you might like.” Jake knew my taste; at this point, every place I went nowadays people knew that one secret of Slater. His tastes were no longer secrets.
I gazed at him, waiting for him to say more until the headmistress, an older woman with short bleached-blonde hair and an unnatural tan, wearing a long black evening dress and far too much make-up appeared. She smiled when she saw me.
“Mr. Slater, welcome back.” She extended her hand and I took it and brought it to my lips.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever return,” she said.
I grinned. “And miss seeing my favorite lady?”
She chuckled, putting her hand on her red lips.
“Oh, Mr. Slater, you’re too much. As always, it’s a pleasure. Shall we?”
“Lead the way, Madame,” I said and put my arm out so she could lead me. She literally blushed, putting that fragile hand under my arm and squeezing close. We began to walk into a long, narrow hallway.
Jake remained, grinning back at me when I disappeared into the hallway with the Madame by my side.
The best part was picking the girl; the Madame led me into the parlor room where two other beautiful girls drew away the curtain, pulling the cords at each end. Beyond the curtain, women were sitting like dishes on a buffet line. I was on the front row.
The women were of all varieties, blondes, redheads, and brunettes were dressed in lingerie, laces, satin, red, blue, and pink teddies. The sight never failed to excite me.
“I have someone you might like, Mr. Slater,” Madame Victoria whispered into my ear, standing right beside me. I had completely forgotten she was there. I was too busy staring at the many beautiful faces in front of me. Their eyes sparkled back at me from where they sat. There were so many beautiful faces; so many beautiful bodies ready to be explored. I wanted them all.
Madame Victoria was so close I hadn’t even realized it until I glanced back down over at her. I must have appeared lost, dazed, or merely dazzled by the women before me. She smiled at me, noting my arousal.
“I know what you like, John,” she hissed, tightly squeezing my arm.
There was only one that always caught my eye, and she was a brunette. I loved brunettes, but I had nothing against other women. I wanted them all, but there was something about brunettes with dark brown eyes and long flowing brown hair that always got Slater right in the cock. And Madame Victoria knew it, Jake knew it, and even my boss, Nicholson knew it.
There were a few women I wanted, but only one of them was my ideal lady. She even had a petite frame.
Why petite? I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that John Slater liked to take control. I could hold her small frame firmly, lift her, guide, and even lead her. She was perfect for me. Besides, women loved height in a man. A woman taller than me had never appealed to me. Not that I wouldn’t fuck one, but it was not my preference.
“I see you found her,” Madame Victoria whispered. Her lips kissed my ear. “I thought of you when I hired her.”
The girl was wearing blue baby doll, lace lingerie. I quivered at the sight of her; she would do. I couldn’t deny that. And when I saw her sitting there with her bronze skin, I knew I wanted her. I wanted to fuck her hard. I couldn’t think of anything else but a nice glass of red wine and a nice fuck. That’s what I wanted. And I wouldn’t be denied that. Did I mention they loved me here?
“I'll take her,” I said, pointing her out. The other women seemed disappointed that I hadn’t picked them. They always were. Some even dyed their hair to please John Slater.
“Of course you will,” Madame Victoria whispered, motioning to the girl. She smiled right back at me, rose, and came down to me from the line of women.
I needed this. It had been too long.
I extended my arm to her, and she put her slender hand in my manly arm and clutched around the blue suit I was wearing.
“Will that be all?” Madame Victoria asked. I grinned with the girl by my side as she asked this of me. I wanted to laugh; John Slater was in candy land.
“Now, you know better than to ask me that Madame,” I said with a half-smile. “Perhaps for now, but I might be hungry later. Let’s keep my options open,”
“As you wish, Mr. Slater, and enjoy.” Madame Victoria grinned, licking her red lips. Perhaps if she was a little younger with dark hair I might have fucked her as well.
I started walking away and only turned to remind her of the wine, but she immediately answered before I said a word. She already knew me well enough.
“As always, the wine you requested is in your room awaiting you,” she said. Satisfied, I led the brunette with me to my usual room. Up the staircase, I went into the room at the end of the hallway. I opened the door and allowed her to walk in first; as soon as we entered, I stood by the door watching her as she went to the table where the bottle of red wine I had requested sat.
The room was simple with a king-sized bed covered in satin maroon sheets. It was elegantly decorated with a white rug beside the bed. There was a vase with fresh roses on a table in the back with chocolate covered strawberries beside it. The bathroom was spacious and clean with white fresh towels, lotions, and perfumes. The girls often had their own rooms, and this wasn’t hers, but it was my favorite spot in the establishment.
A large screen TV was mounted above a decorated mantle facing the bed. The mantle had a variety of old photographs of women in various poses wearing lingerie.
Windows were an option, and an option Slater required, especially in my line of work. There was even a dresser, but instead of clothes, there were toys and other adult novelties inside of it.
“Latina?” I asked, and the girl gazed over at me surprised with a smile.
“Sí,” she said.
“Eso es lo que pensé,” I whispered. I loved Spanish women. That was a confession.
“Me sorprende que usted habla el español muy bien,” she responded in Spanish.
Yes, yes, I did. I dabbled a little in the Spanish language. Okay, so I was fluent. How can you say you loved something so much and not completely commit to its customs and language?
“Gracias. Pero, ¿Por qué? Creo que si te gusta algo debes dedicarte completamente. Me encantan las mujeres latinas,” I replied. She blinked. Had my response aroused her? This mere white man was talking back to her in her language, and I think it turned her on. Just as it turned me on when Latin women spoke in their native tongue.
“Ahora Quítate la ropa,” I ordered; she smiled and obeyed immediately. The second thing I loved in women, obedience. There was nothing more pleasing in a woman than obedience and submissiveness.
I took things slow, watched her when she got undressed. God, it turned me on when I watched the way her hair danced upon her bronze body. I just wanted to fuck her, but I didn’t want to rush things. I wanted to relax and to enjoy it, for it would be another long job before the next fuck.
That’s the way I worked. And yet, from what Nicholson had indicated, if this job was as easy as he said it was, I would soon find myself here again. I liked that idea a whole lot. My half-smile went up again, just like my cock as I watched my Latin beauty dance in front of me.
We didn't fuck right away. She helped me get undressed, removing the blue suit and tie and then the white shirt. She undid the belt, pulled it off my waist, and then undid my zipper; I removed my shoes as she helped me slip off my pants. She did it so slowly, so erotically, making me feel every part of her hands touch me. As much as I wanted to leap upon her and mount her, I waited. The wait would be worth it. Besides, she knew how John Slater worked, how I loved to take things very slowly. She must know. I was so popular here.