by Abbott, Alex
And the fact was, baby wipes were a gift to criminal kind. Once, years ago, after I’d just gotten into the job, I’d done some work on a bleeder, and by the time I’d finished, my hands and wrists were covered with blood. So there I’d been, looking like I’d just tried to kill someone, which I had, with no way to clean up. The four-block walk to a safe house had been the longest of my life; I’d been certain that at any moment a cop, a rival, or a concerned citizen would jump me. I’d made it, but hadn’t been caught like that again, so I counted the experience a valuable lesson. That none of my colleagues ever thought far enough ahead to wonder what would happen if they were caught covered in some mark’s blood only helped solidify why they were all headed to prison or an early grave.
I was too; there was no retirement at the end of my career track, but I sure as fuck wouldn’t make it that easy.
The hand sanitizer, though, that was another matter. It served a purpose and was useful, but it was mostly a personal quirk. Using it was my own little ritual, tantamount to clocking out, and as I rubbed it into my hands, I always let my mind drift, tightened the reins on the enforcer and let the other me, what little there was left, come out.
And then, by the time the sanitizer was dry, I had my human face on and went out into the world. One last stop, and then I could indulge in the one pleasure I had in life.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
I walked into the club, the party in full swing, the screams and laughter of revelers making the walls throb, and headed back to see the boss, greeting others as I moved.
“It went well?” he said when I finally reached him.
“Fine,” I responded.
My boss nodded; the question was mostly a formality. I always did my job well.
“Good. Do you think he’ll pay?” he asked.
“If he makes it, he will.”
“I don’t know why they haven’t figured out how much easier this would be if they just paid and saved you the trouble,” he said.
I shrugged. “Everybody thinks they can beat the system.”
“But you prove them wrong,” he replied, a grim expression on his face.
Most wouldn’t recognize it as a smile, but it was as close as he would come to one. Except when she was around. Even then he was restrained, rightly concerned with her safety, me one of the only of his associates he allowed to be around her on a few rare occasions. But still, his caution aside, I’d seen a change in him. Not a softening; that was impossible, for him and for me, but he was different now. Maybe a little calmer. More like a man with something to lose, a man with something worth fighting for.
I envied him. I’d never much considered how entirely empty my life was, but seeing him, seeing the way he was with her showed me what I’d been missing.
“Have you given any thought to what I asked?” he said, interrupting my wandering thoughts.
“I don’t need to. It’s not for me.”
He nodded and then let the subject drop. He probably knew me well enough to know that I wouldn’t be swayed, and that ability to know what fights to pick and when had served him well, was more than part of the reason why he’d managed to maintain his position for so long. He’d made the offer before, and I’d rejected it almost instantly. I wasn’t built for management and had no interest in day-to-day operations. Still, it was a bit of a risk to refuse him. The offer revealed how highly he regarded me, and he could be offended that I turned him down and as quickly as I had. I’d had no other choice though. I knew myself, my limitations.
I was an enforcer, nothing more.
“If you change your mind,” he said.
I shook his hand and said good-bye.
Chapter Two
I walked the several blocks that separated the club from my destination, a thrum of what could almost be called excitement bubbling in my blood. That feeling intensified as I got closer and closer, and I let the strange sensation take over. I was unaccustomed to it, unaccustomed to feeling anything, really, so the feeling was still odd. But I liked it, had come to need it in fact.
I entered the smallish restaurant about a half hour before it closed and settled in my usual spot, the last booth on the left, the only seat that gave a full view of the entire place, including the front and back doors and restrooms. As much as I liked being here, feeling transported, old habits being what they were, I still needed to be completely aware of my surroundings at all times; my life depended on it.
The unique nature of this little game never failed to amuse me. Other guys went to clubs, fucked bored housewives who were looking for excitement, but during my downtime, I went to a restaurant, one that, save for pie, I’d never even eaten at. Not the most popular way to spend time, but there was nothing else I’d rather do. In the split second after I sat, she placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of me and turned and headed back to the counter, where she lifted a glass dome and expertly plated a piece of pie, one that she brought to the table and left, all without saying a word.
I sipped the strong coffee and then took a bite of the pie—apple today—giving off an air of casual disinterest. Nothing could be further from the truth, though. I watched her as she moved around the restaurant, chatting pleasantly with the few other patrons, tidying the bar, getting ready to close the place.
She was a foot shorter than my own six four, her smooth, soft-looking skin a deep, rich brown that beckoned me to touch; so do her body, the rounded slope of her soft but strong shoulders enclosed in a simple white button-shirt—one that was still immaculately clean despite it being the end of the day—leading down to full breasts, a thick but narrow waist, all atop robust hips and thighs that strained against the confines of her navy-blue pants. Her feminine shape appealed, but when she turned and smiled at one of her customers, she became a goddess to my eye.
Unabashed, unrestrained warmth flowed through that smile and took what could have been average features to an entirely different plane, one that made her almost irresistible. I never engaged with her, didn’t dare risk it, but these little glimpses of her were food to my soul, embers of light in the darkness, light that I found myself seeking more and more.
I’d passed this place a thousand times, a million, over the years, but I could remember the night I’d walked past and caught a fleeting sight of her. I’d been struck but it, and by her, left with no choice but to enter, the need to see more of that smile overriding common sense.
“Hello, sir. I’m April. What can I get you?” she’d said.
April.
A perfect name for her.
I’d peered at her, taking in the professionally friendly expression on her face and hastily ordered the first thing that had come to mind, coffee and a slice of pie. They’d only had one slice left, and I’d taken it, telling her that the kind didn’t matter.
And I’d done the same thing again and again, always ordering pie and coffee and leaving just before she closed. She’d never tried to engage me but didn’t seem particularly concerned or bothered by me, or much like she noticed me at all. I figured she’d met her fair share of eccentrics in this neighborhood, and truthfully, I was grateful. The shadows were my home, and I’d managed to make it this long by shunning attention, blending in as well as I could given my height and build. And if she’d paid me any special attention at all, given any hint that she thought of me as anything more than a peculiar customer, I would have had to end these trips, something I didn’t at all want.
Over the months since that first night, I’d found myself here more and more frequently, and I’d begun to stay longer and longer. Tonight was no different. I’d lingered much longer than I should have. Long enough that I was eventually the last customer who remained, long enough that I wondered if she was uncomfortable.
But she gave no outward sign that anything was wrong, kept that same pleasant, welcoming demeanor, one that I was convinced she used to hide the real her, the her that I caught faint hints of with each visit, the her that sucked me further and further without her ev
en trying.
“More coffee?” she asked when she walked over.
I shook my head.
Her lips turned up in a slight smile and she nodded, and then said, “Okay. I’m going to tidy up a bit, but please sit as long as you’d like. Do you mind if I lock the door?”
As she spoke in those whiskeyed tones, she headed toward the door. The depth with which I wanted to stay shook me to my core, and it was that desire that finally made me stand. If I stayed, I would give her even more reason to notice me, something that was not smart. And I always prided myself on my smarts. So I resisted.
“I’m leaving, but have a nice night,” I said, as I walked toward the door.
“You too,” she responded.
I stepped outside and waited until she locked the door before rounding the block. This thing was stupid, and I needed to stop. I didn’t belong here there, didn’t belong with her. And the more I pretended, the more it would hurt when I couldn’t come back. It didn’t make sense anyway. She was polite, nothing more. But I craved her presence nonetheless.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
I wandered for a while longer, trying to clear my head, but it was late, and only the worst of the worst, those like me, were out on the street. Only trouble was to be found, and I had more than enough of that, so I went to the place where I was currently laying my head.
I always moved, never stayed anywhere too long, something that never bothered me. I had the money to get a more permanent place, but I never had. Settling, putting down roots was just another pipe dream, another facet of life that was for others and never for me, a fact that I didn’t lament so much as accept.
Still, though I never slept in one place for too long, I did enjoy certain creature comforts, a nice mattress and clean bathroom among them. My current residence featured both, but not much else. Once I entered, I peeled off my clothes as I walked toward the bathroom and then stepped into the shower and turned the water on full blast.
I let the hot water beat down on me, lowering my head under the spray as I moved my hand to my cock, which stood hard and ready as it always did after I left the restaurant. I’d never had trouble attracting female companionship and had any number of willing partners who would have been happy to take care of me. And in the past, I’d have been more than happy to let them.
But no longer.
Only April, who I could never have, would do, so I was left to this, imagining it was her hand, with its nimble brown fingers that had fascinated me from the first, wrapping around my cock instead of my own. Her soft palm rubbing against my shaft rather than my callused one.
I let my eyes drift closed and set my mind free, picturing her in the spacious shower with me, her round curves bared to me, breasts rising and falling with her breaths, so full and heavy that they would fill even my large hands to overflowing. I tugged my cock harder, choking out a moan as I traced my hands down the sides of my imaginary April, rested them at the flare of her wide hips, sturdy enough to withstand an unrelenting pounding and soft enough to cradle me as I leisurely stroked inside her.
Then, in my mind, she pulled away, and I choked out a moan as she kneeled before me, her legs folding in a way that made her thick thighs pull tight. I stroked a finger across my slit, pretending it was her tongue, that the fingers I wrapped about my shaft were her lips.
I tugged and stroked until that telltale pull at my gut intensified to the breaking point. I heard a faint sound in my ear, and when I realized it was the memory of April’s husky laugh, I let go, shooting my cum deep into imaginary April’s welcoming mouth. As the tide relented, I went slack against the shower wall, my breath heavy with the remnants of my climax, and my heart stinging with her absence.
After a few minutes longer, I turned off the water, dried myself, and lay in my bed, my orgasm having pushed the need back a bit, though my desire was in no way satiated. As I so often did in the darkness of the late night, I let thoughts that I would never allow in the light of day roam free, imagined what it would be like to have April here beside me, her warm, soft body beckoning me to touch her, the cold starkness of my surroundings being livened by her very presence. Imagined how it would be to be a normal man with a normal woman with a normal home.
Home.
The word brought me up short and doused the fantasy.
I didn’t have a home, never had.
And I never would.
But that fact didn’t ease my longing for it, or for her, nor did it stop me from thinking of her as I drifted off to sleep, her softly smiling face dancing behind my eyelids.
Chapter Three
“What?” I responded when I picked up the phone.
“Meet me in twenty minutes,” the voice on the other end uttered and then the line went dead.
I scowled and then stood, dressing quickly for the meet. Shaughnessy loved his little cloak-and-dagger routine, and I needed to keep him happy, so, as annoying as he was, I went along with it. I’d long ago stopped trying to figure out how a man as stupid as him had risen to the rank of assistant police chief, and tried to remind myself that he was a useful asset, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was.
When I reached the park, I sat on the same bench that I always did and pretended to be surprised when Shaughnessy emerged from the shadows.
“Didn’t mean to startle you, big boy,” he said, an oily smirk covering his face as he settled next to me.
It took a feat of will not to punch him at the use of the dumb nickname he insisted on and an even stronger one not to laugh in the weasel’s face. I’d scoped him and the three bodyguards he traveled with before I’d entered the park, and even if I hadn’t, his lumbering steps would have give him away. But I said nothing.
“Do you have it?” he asked.
“Don’t I always?” I replied.
“That you do,” he said, extending a hand.
I passed him the bag, and as he sifted through it, he spread his lips in a lustful smile, his too-white veneers shining against his spray-tanned skin. For all his instance on stealth, he wasn’t very good at it. My boss wouldn’t have been caught dead within twenty miles of this exchange, but Shaughnessy always picked up the money personally. Maybe he didn’t trust his guys to deliver it, or maybe he thought he had a really compelling explanation for receiving a bagful of money from a known criminal in the dead of night.
I highly doubted it, but again, that wasn’t my concern. Shaughnessy handled most of the protection side of the business, which would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so tragic, mostly keeping the vagrants and street criminals under control while the boss handled the more complex aspects of the business. The arrangement kept the streets clean, at least on the surface, which helped Shaughnessy maintain his low-crime stats, and in return, the boss made sure that the business ran mostly outside of the view of the pubic.
Shaughnessy was a scumbag and a fool, but he made it possible for me to act with relative impunity—though the cost was high, both in dollars and the sheer fucking annoyance of dealing with him—so he was a necessary evil, one that I tolerated, but barely.
“Any problems I should be aware of?” he asked.
I shook my head. “So that’s it?” he said.
“That’s all,” I responded, my voice flat, not that he got the message.
He asked that every time and always seemed disappointed at my answer.
“Appreciate doing business with you as always. Stay out of trouble, big boy,” he said.
I didn’t respond.
He waited a moment, seemed to expect something else, but after a few seconds, he stood and left.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
“We have a conundrum.”
I’d come back for the second time this week, more than I’d dared before. I turned my face to her, the wholesome, welcoming smile there making my heart stutter. I nodded slightly, indicating that she should go on, and she smiled even brighter, something that shouldn’t have been possible.
“I always give you the la
st piece,” she said. “You said it didn’t matter what kind, just pie and coffee, right?”
I nodded. The pie didn’t matter; the ritual was the important thing, being with normal people, being with her.
“Well, I can’t believe this has never happened before, but we have two pieces left, and for the life of me I can’t decide which to give you. Peach or blueberry. I can’t tell which fits, which is rare. I’m usually good at that sort of thing, can guess someone’s flavor after two seconds. But not you.”
She laughed, the sound light and musical, and then glanced away.
“So which is it?” she said.
“You pick your favorite and give me the other one. But I want you to sit with me.”
Her eyes went wide at my statement, and I had no idea when had compelled me to utter the suggestion. As the moment stretched, I almost changed my mind and tried to take the words back, but when she glanced at the door and then at her watch, before walking over turning the lock, and switching off the open sign, I was glad I held my tongue.
“We close in ten minutes,” she said as she walked toward me with two plates. “It won’t hurt anything.”
She slid the slice of blueberry across the table.
“Thank you.”
We ate in silence for a few moments, and then I blurted, “I could tell you’d be peach.”
She lifted her brow. “It was a close call. I’m more flavor agnostic, as these hips can tell you,” she said, gesturing down.
“I like your hips,” I said.
She looked shocked but then smiled again. I looked away, though, unbelieving that I’d just said that. I didn’t think of myself as a stupid man, but this two-sentence exchange with April had left me a tongue-tied, blabbering idiot.
An idiot with a vicious hard-on. I always had this reaction to her, but it was more acute tonight, my cock so hard I had trouble sitting still, but I was unwilling to stand lest the tent in my pants send her running away screaming.