by Jaden Wilkes
He leaned over and started kissing her again, this time it was softer, more sensual. Columbia wished he’d pin her arms back, but she didn’t want to scare him off again.
She was starting to relax and get into the kiss. Stuart pulled her towards him and she let her body fold against his. He took her hand and laid it on his lap, she could feel his erection through his jeans. She fought her urge to pull back, this was so far into new territory for her, she didn’t know what to expect.
“Just rub it,” Stuart whispered, his breath ragged and hot on her lips.
“Ok,” she whispered back and complied. She knew it would be more sensitive near the tip, so she concentrated on that area. He groaned and jerked his hips against her hand. increasing the pressure. Columbia had never done this, she understood the mechanics of bringing a man to orgasm, but had never been actually present during the moment.
Stuart started to rub her back, his hands moving faster and faster, until they matched the rhythm of his thrusts. She felt odd, like she was part of a machine created to jerk Stuart off in the cab of his truck. It was a bizarre detachment that happened whenever she was involved in the pleasuring of another human being, but she didn’t know how to prevent it.
Stuart started to slow his frenetic rubbing and thrusting. “I don’t want this to happen here,” he said as he pulled away and looked her in the eyes. “I want this to be special.”
“I didn’t know you had thought about this,” Columbia replied. The effects of the beers were wearing off and she was starting to get a headache.
“I have been thinking about it for years,” he said. He looked embarrassed, as if he had just admitted a weakness.
“But you’re with Debbie now,” she told him, as if thinking of it for the first time. “This hardly seems fair to her, right?” The beers were definitely wearing off as she came to her senses.
“I know, you’re right,” he replied. “You just look so incredible when you’re excited about something. Most of the time you walk around like you’re in a fog, I can’t see you behind your eyes a lot of the time. I wonder where you’ve gone. But tonight, you had a fire and it reminded me of how amazing you are. You are a very beautiful girl, but you know that.”
She softened and forgot Debbie again. She felt Stuart’s finger begin to caress her hand and she stared into his eyes for any hint of irony or deception. He was sincere. He thought she was beautiful. She just wanted to be thought of this way and not have people question her about it.
“Thank you,” she managed to whisper and he swept her into a kiss once again. He released her hand and let his travel up and down her arm. She was wearing a snug black hoodie, so he couldn’t feel her flesh, but the sensation of being touched by him was intense in its honesty. Stuart believed in her beauty.
He reached her hand and slid his slowly back up in a languid stroke. His tongue filled her mouth and she closed her eyes to lose herself in the moment. His hand reached the sleeve of her hoodie and he slid his fingers underneath, to her flesh.
She jumped and tried to pull back but he already had his hand up her sleeve, sliding along her skin, touching her .
He jerked his hand back and pulled away from her. His eyes were full of confusion and he said, “What was that?”
She felt her heart thud to the bottom of the pit in her stomach and she was unable to speak. How could she explain to him all the darkness she carried with her, the unexplainable oddities?
How could she look at him now that he no longer saw her as beautiful?
She pulled away and slid towards the passenger door. “Nothing, forget about it,” she murmured and reached around behind her for the handle.
“Col, I didn’t mean anything by it, please,” Stuart pleaded with her and she opened the door. He reached for her to keep her in the cab of the truck but she slipped away into the night.
She ran down West Fourth, looking for a dark place to catch her breath. The last thing she heard was Stuart’s door opening and him yelling after her. “I still think you’re beautiful, come back!”
*****
Columbia reached her Nan’s apartment a little after five in the morning. She knew her Nan would be up early and would understand why Columbia didn’t want to go home just now.
“Columbia, come on up,” Nan said on the intercom.
Her Nan was in her late eighties and lived on her own in a terrible part of town. She was a feisty old bird, and Columbia knew she’d probably die in her apartment before anyone convinced her to move into a home.
“So what do I owe the pleasure this visit?” Nan asked as Columbia shrugged out of her coat and took off her boots.
Columbia’s eyes darkened and awareness crept over Nan’s face. She didn’t say any more, but simply took Columbia to the kitchen and settled her at the table as she made a pot of tea.
“Would you like some toast?” Nan asked.
“Yes, please, I’m starving,” Columbia replied. She had spent the hours in between Stuart’s discovery and Nan’s apartment wandering around the waterfront thinking about how she would ever face him again.
After breakfast she helped Nan wash up, then went to the little living room and fell asleep on the couch while Nan rocked and crocheted to her morning TV shows.
At some point she was half awake and heard Nan on the phone. “Yes, she’s here. Don’t worry Shelly, I’ll send her home as soon as she’s awake.”
Somewhere in the depths of her subconscious she was grateful that her mother noticed when she was gone. It was nice to have her absence noticed every once in a while.
Columbia woke up at around two in the afternoon. Maury was on and Nan was surprisingly interested in who really was the father.
“Don’t watch this crap, it’ll rot your brain,” Columbia said with a laugh as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“At my age there’s not much left to rot,” Nan replied. “Your mother’s looking for you,” she added.
“I should get home then,” Columbia fibbed. She went to reach for her purse and remembered it was in Stuart’s truck. She didn’t know how she would manage to get it back without talking to him. After last night she never wanted to talk to him again.
“Could you be a dear and go to the store before you go?” Nan asked. “I need a couple lottery tickets. Can you imagine me winning something at my age? At least you’d inherit a lot!”
“Sure thing Nan,” Columbia said and took a twenty from the older woman, “but I think our family was meant to be poor. I don’t think a single one of us has ever been rich.” She would have to skim a bit of the change to pay for a Skytrain ticket, but Nan would understand.
She had an hour before meeting the contact in front of the building she was going to infiltrate. She hopped the Skytrain to Granville Street and took her time walking down to English Bay. She wandered back along the waterfront to the Convention Centre, always feeling comforted and safe near the water. It made her feel like she had a chance to escape given the need.
She sat on a bench and killed a little more time before the big event. She knew Stuart had to work today, so she wouldn’t be able to get her phone until after her meeting with Jarrod Jacobs. She didn’t have her phone to record the encounter as planned, but at least she could tell him how she felt about his company.
She straightened her shoulders and resolved to do this one task for the group, then decided to bow out and never see Stuart or Debbie again. She didn’t know how she could look either one of them in the eye now. She was mortified to imagine Stuart telling Debbie everything that had happened last night.
The clock on the building behind her read four o’clock, time for her to go meet the guy who was going to sneak her in. She almost looked forward to curling up in the bottom of a food cart for the afternoon, alone in the dark with her thoughts. She needed to sort out what she wanted to do; she needed to talk herself out of the urge that was building.
Jarrod Jacob’s building was located a short walk along the waterfront. She saw Marco, the cook, waiting for
her outside. He was shifting from one foot to the other and looking at his watch in an exaggerated fashion.
“Hey, what’s up?” she said as she approached him.
“Are you the girl?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s me.” she replied.
“What’s the code phrase?” he demanded.
“The Eagle has landed, motherfucker,” she told him and knew as she said it that it wasn’t as funny as they had thought the night before. He’d been texted the phrase and they all had a good laugh about it. Not so much in the light of day.
“Ok, cool. Follow me. We’ll go in around back through the service entrance. They bring carts and shit up and down to this Jacobs dude all the time so they won’t notice a thing,” he said and looked her up and down. “It’s a good thing you’re so tiny, it’s going to be cramped. I’ll do my best to get you out here and there so you can stretch or something, but unless I tell you to, stay hidden, ok?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. They had gone over the plan a hundred times the night before. She was to wait until Marco cleared his throat, said “What a long day that was,” and left the kitchen, locking the door as he left.
“You really sure about this?” Marco asked as they went through an industrial set of steel doors.
“I’m really sure,” she smiled. “If anything this will be a blessing to have a little nap.”
“Ok, it’s your call,” he said and stopped. “Here’s the bathroom, I suggest you go before we head up. It will be your last chance for a couple of hours and we don’t need you pissing yourself when you confront him. We need footage for the news outlets.”
“Oh shit, that’s the thing, right?” she told him. “I left my phone in Stuart’s truck, I don’t know how I’m going to record this.”
“Fuuuuuuck,” Marco said and blew a whistle through his teeth. “That kinda defeats the purpose of this. How about you go take a piss, and I’ll see what I can come up with?”
Columbia agreed and left him in the hall. By the time she got back he was holding an iPhone, similar to her own.
“I’ll give you mine on one condition,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t read any texts, emails or notes I might have in there. Better yet, just use the camera on this thing, nothing else, got it?” he instructed.
“Yeah, I got it. That’s literally the only thing I need it for.”
They continued down a hallway and went through a door at the end. He showed her the food cart and she folded herself up and got in. It was very cramped with less room than she had hoped, but she could sleep for a bit at least.
“Good luck,” Marco said as he crouched down to shut the door on the cart. “Ok, you can use the phone one more time...to text Stu when you’re done and he’s on stand by, ok? His number’s in there.”
“Will do, and thanks,” she replied as the door swung shut and she was locked in the darkness. She hated the thought of texting Stuart and would have to figure out how to avoid that. She settled into the rhythm as the cart was pushed into the elevator and she started her ride up to the penthouse.
Chapter Five - Dimitri
He woke in darkness, he wasn’t sure what time it was or what had woken him. Normally he would hit the bedside buzzer and demand the concierge walk the length of the hallway between Dimitri’s bedroom and the thick security door between him and the rest of the apartment. He couldn’t do so now that his friend was gone. He lay still for a moment and listened, but heard nothing to indicate what had awoken him. Dimitri learned long ago to trust his instincts though, even after a drunken evening of stalking Sergei online and trying desperately to come to bondage videos that crossed the boundary into near snuff. Nothing had worked so he had drunk himself into oblivion.
He switched on the lamp next to the bed and saw blood on the floor. He ran his hands carefully up his body looking for a wound, avoiding his scars as he often did, and found nothing. He looked down and noticed his feet were bloodied. That damn lamp. He’d forgotten about that damn lamp and walked right through the broken glass.
He leaned down and inspected his foot; there was one large shard, over an inch long, left in the fleshy pad below his big toe. He wiggled his foot and grabbed the glass, yanked it out and placed it on the bedside table. His blood had dried around the edges and left a beautiful purple pattern against the light blue glass. He decided he would clean the glass up himself this time, take action to do something in his environment instead of just exist. For now, he needed to find out what was bothering him.
He stood gingerly and walked to the door, opened it and listened again. He heard nothing, just the low humming of the working vents, appliances and electronics scattered about the space. He moved slowly along the hall, the lights coming on one by one as they sensed his movement. He stopped in front of the thick security door and listened. Again, nothing.
He rubbed his head, blinked a couple of times and shook it off as another paranoid dream that dragged him up from the depths of peaceful sleep to remind him that he was a wanted man.
Last night came back to him in bits and pieces. The drinking hadn’t been precipitated so much by the lack of sexual release as it had by a news piece that had been sent to him through anonymous channels.
Sergei had doubled the number on his head; Dimitri’s death was now worth twenty million dollars to the person who succeeded. Never one to relax his guard in the first place, this had sent Dimitri’s nerves into overdrive. So horny, frustrated, caged and now hunted by possibly every marksman on the planet, he had turned to vodka to keep him calm.
Whores were most likely no longer on the menu, he would have the concierge replace all the current staff and rotate them every few weeks so none of them could be bought off. “Damn,” Dimitri swore into the silent hallway. This was a bad time for this to happen, with his trusted friend so far away.
He was heading back to his bedroom when something tweaked in the corner of his mind. He just couldn’t quite get back to sleep yet, not without at least checking his security monitors. He went to the security centre of the penthouse, the room where the concierge had installed the monitoring equipment. He sat in one of the comfortable office chairs and watched the screens. He realized it was early morning, the windows in his bedroom had been darkened still which had given the illusion of being night. Just past six, his staff was beginning their day. He saw his personal chef and briefly reconsidered his decision to fire everyone, her cooking was exquisite.
He watched a deliveryman gain entry; his front door guard thoroughly checked the man’s papers, patted him down and carefully took the package. After it was x-rayed and opened, the deliveryman was allowed to go. This pleased Dimitri, seeing his highly paid staff doing their jobs.
He watched the other screens for a few minutes and stood up. Nothing had shown up and he still needed a few hours of sleep to burn off his potential hangover.
Back in his room he thought about making one more try stroking himself to release. He lay back on the bed, closed his eyes and decided against it. This level of nervous tension was infinitely easier to deal with over the building frustration of being unable to reach an orgasm.
He slid under the covers, forced his breathing to steady and let himself fall into sleep. His last thought before sleep was of his childhood home. A tiny apartment in a low rise building in Kapotnya, an area just Southeast of Moscow. It had been shabby, nothing spectacular, seven people living in about five hundred square feet. But his mind filled with the scent of his mother’s fresh bread baking in the oven, the sound of her rolling dough on the kitchen table...and he was filled with longing. Darkness was welcome.
*****
Dimitri watched the seagull pick up the piece of bread he had thrown at it. The bird was his sole visitor on the rooftop deck this afternoon. He had slept late, woken famished and ordered his food before he took a long, hot shower. By the time he had finished, he was fully revived and ready to dig into whatever the chef had thrown together for him. W
ithout the concierge, he had no idea what the menu was going to be. He vaguely remembered him leaving instructions before he left, but didn’t recall what they were.
Lunch was delivered by a guard who passed through a high-level security scanner before entering the smaller dining room Dimitri used. No guns were carried back here, Dimitri was the only one allowed a weapon.
The guard wheeled the service tray to the table, bowed slightly and left the room, back to his post outside the door. Dimitri carefully inspected the food, found it perfect, and took it with him to the roof.
He felt free up here. It was another gorgeous spring day in Vancouver, the blue of the sky only outdone by the blue of the water stretching all the way to Vancouver Island. The North Shore Mountains thrust upwards, their white peaks reminding him that winter’s dull months were not far off…when you were trapped, it seemed the days were long but the years were short.
This would be his third year in Vancouver, the time truly was passing too quickly and his revenge was getting colder every month that passed without Sergei’s head on a platter.
Dimitri threw another piece of bread towards the bird and a second, smaller one landed close by. The two of them started to fight over the chunk, and Dimitri was amused by their animal natures. They fought openly over the scrap, without a hint of self-awareness or shame.
He sat back and looked out over the city. It taunted him, called him and frustrated him with the low rush of activity happening 30 stories below him. Distant car horns sounded, and he could hear the hum of an airplane in the distance.
He needed something to change; he knew this in his bones as surely as he knew he would take his next breath.
He ripped the last part of the sandwich in half and threw a piece to a waiting seagull. The larger one gulped his portion and leapt at the other. Dimitri chuckled as the smaller one beat the other with its wings, stole back its bread and dropped off the side of the building with it.
“What do you expect?” he yelled at the stunned looking bird. “He wanted it more, you ate yours, you greedy bastard...now go!” He stood up and the startled bird took to the skies. Dimitri watched him fly and felt a stab of envy pierce him as the bird hit and updraft and was gone.