Up the stairs I clamber. Maggie is at the top, waiting. The smile that eroded her once blank and lost face is gone and replaced by the unending dark stare that keeps all the remanded in check. I wonder why she never took that job down in the Penitentiary. She would be amazing there. “Not too long missy. Just follow me, ya here!” Rapt and harsh, just the way she and I talked about it. She can be nice to me but ugly to the rest. If anyone has a problem with it you can come see me. The silver wraps tightly around my wrists, and I walk incarcerated. It’s a new feeling to be in them.
We walk down a new set of halls, this time they look even older. There is a door that leads to a men’s WC, and a few walks down, the janitor’s closet. Oh the memories from back then, when my blood was on fire and my lust unsated. The things we would do in that closet with the buckets and the paper towels…I try my best to hide my smirk. She might think I love this too much.
“In here missy. Take ya time,” she says, right after winking. I noticed this set of hallways had minimal cameras set, and even the white and black ones hanging around are too old to function. Could this…could this be an arranged execution? Suddenly my heart wanders into that place where the drums are loud and the speed of blood close to light. Where the thumping of the little muscle in my chest heads to my ears and tongue, where I can feel it romping away in…fear.
The door swings open. Crippling fear suddenly rushes in that stomp of a moment. I fear to see a gun, or the last sight of my life – a speeding bullet through my brain, right between my eyes. It’s what I’ve been thinking of these past few days. The only way to get me out of the picture with no say or proof is to make it look like an accident and fake my death. But in reality, my body would be in an incinerator in a few hours. I’m kinda set to go, but this…not like this…Not like –
“Hey Jazz.”
You ever ridden on a rollercoaster, or on a speedboat? I get the feeling you have. Now, empty your mind and silence your heart – imagine with me. Let’s travel together to that faded memory and give it a color swab, ey? That maddening rush, you remember it of course, the one that reminds you of how fragile your life is, and how much meaning your death can be if only you let go…You know it right? Now do you remember that moment when all that fear washes away in an instant, and suddenly you are awash with the excitement of your lifetime?
I see Spencer Winters in front of me, and that is exactly how I feel. He is my rollercoaster at its peak. The moment I hear his voice uttering those two sweet words that transcend time and space, back to when things were what they were; simple.
“Hey…you’re here…” I try to mutter, but his demeanor feels more professional than personal. He might just be here for the case. I wallow in the state of not knowing. Even the heavy silver on my wrists doesn’t sting as much as the iciness between us.
He walks across the room, hands in his pocket as usual. Is face is grim and very professional, and his steps prove to be more lighthearted than his glum eyes. To the corner he flows, swiftly taking out his hands and fiddling with the wiring up above. Could…could that be…
“Are…”
He holds up a finger to his lips.
The red light fades out. No cameras. No two-way mirror. No cops inside the room. It’s just the two of us, with no one outside waiting on us.
“I’ve missed you Jazz,’ he whispers, smashing his lips just like the last night we were one. His warm fingers caress my damp and lonely scalp. The tender touch of his lips on mine; his steaming tongue so close to burning my insides …oh God I’ve missed him.
“I…I missed you for so long Spencer…”
The distance between us is as short as that of a breadth of hair. He smashes his pelvis hard and soft into my yellow cloth. There is no time for pleasantries. No time for him to uncuff me. No time to water down the table with padding to make it soft. No…the only time we have is enough for his hands to get rough on my elbows, and his wrists soft enough around my areolas. Tongue sweeps across my nipples, and so do his teeth.
Minutes pass into infinity, and his elongated limb trespasses willingly into my inner folds. I…I realize not when his trousers dropped, or when my mouth was filled with his cane. The sucking sounds make the feeling in me of submission to him all the same astounding. He licks me into his will, with my back in the air and my ass cheeks on his face. He slurps and licks and bites and moans and rubs and…
“Fuck Spencer…deeper baby…mmmh…”
He tears me apart with his warms stare. This devotion to me, to us, is so much more than the physical restraints of our bodies. This light, emanating from the south ends of our auras illuminate the bonds within and without, to turn us into creatures of love. Oh…he fills me so gently, so tenderly…so…
I writhe under him. He writhes under me. It’s so uncomfortable with the table under us but so sweet at the same time. It’s like taking candy from the proverbial rotten baby and switching it for veggies.
“Jazz…God you…mmmh”
We keep at it for the shortest amount of time possible. I think he’s done enough. My breasts hang out loose of the yellow jumpsuit adorning low by my ankles. Our breath is shallow. His pants are by his ankles too. Funny he fucked me deep with his coat still on. Ha-ha. He reminds me of my imaginations as a child of how the Invisible Man must have looked.
His hands are twined in mine. His eyes locked on mine. My feet cold on the floor. His bum hard and clammy.
“I have missed you every day of my life Jasmine Turner. Now kiss your man like he’s just come back from the war,” he smirks.
This time, I take it slow. In all my life, all the hate and pain I know to be between two people who love each other rots away. We have seen and lived apart from each other for too long. Too long he studied the bleak and joy of existence without me. No more.
One kiss is all it takes. One moment of breath shortened and given and blessed and birthed is all it takes to remind one. I reserve my energy and pull him into the abyss that has been waiting so long for him. He pulls into me, sucking and nibbling with his tongue the nuggets of…you get the point.
In that meld, I know this is so far from over. It’s not by a long shot.
This is just the beginning.
*
“Your badge was showing Officer,” I politely and quaintly smile in his face as he dresses. He wraps his belt around his waist and takes his time, very slowly, to zip up. I clear my throat and he laughs it off.
“I knew you were into this freaky role playing stuff Jazz. You should see how much you came in my mouth. I think I’ll be good for a couple of days without…”
“Slow down cowboy,” I protest, my ego feeling extra stroked right about now, “you found something to get me out of here right? We can’t always have sex in the visitor’s room, you know…as much as it has been a fantasy of mine all through.”
He gently lays his hands on mine. They are warm and free. Mine are chained. Then he sees it…well, them.
“Jazz…did you get into a fight? I noticed you have some more scars down back. Who did this to you?”
His tone is almost argumentative, with a tiny hint of love. He’s just concerned, despite him raising his voice slightly. There is no hiding anything from him…only the one thing he can never know about. Maybe till the timing is right.
“Don’t worry about it Spencer. It’s all a matter of knowing where to punch the pipes and tubes. I took care of it, alright? And don’t scowl…that only works when you hurt your foot.”
My answer is not satisfactory, so I kiss him some more.
“Tell me what you got Officer Winters,” I urge.
“Okay Jazz. I have enough evidence to prove you are innocent and to get you out of here.”
Hope is the last thing I need in this place, and so I try to maintain my composure with such sudden and implicit news. He means well, but even with the best case against whoever is doing this…I doubt Spencer can crack this.
But I have to trust him
“Look…I nu
mbed through Ray’s briefcase and found…yeah, yeah – it was a spark of the moment kinda idea. And I do have my reservations on the guy, so…I filed through his papers and documents and found one crucial thing missing from all this.”
No way he found it. They said it could never be found…they said it got lost in the struggle as he died. Even Ray swore he never saw it or kept a copy. Spencer moves his warm hand away and slips it into his pocket. A black and white piece of paper, folded twice.
“With me here, is a copy of Carl Glenn’s last will and testament.”
When I said I don’t want hope…I take it all back. This is exactly what I want. I can finally breathe again. The hold on my neck, the choking spiel inside my ribs is lifted. Glowing embers of hope rise in his eyes and mirror into mine.
“Well, what does it say? Do I get my house back?” I ask arrogantly. I know Carl would never have thought of something so foolish, considering his hate for us.
Spencer tears away his eyes. A gathering of courage takes place in his bowels. “Well, not exactly…he, um, he left you nothing.”
“Oh,” I murmur silently. It was inevitable. “Okay, what does it say that can give us a clue of who put me in here?”
He unfolds it gingerly, carefully making sure the creases are done well. “There’s the mention of a certain woman…Veronica Shingle. She’s got everything that was Harvey’s and your husband’s.”
I’m confused. How does my dad get into all this? He can see it in the furrow of my brow.
“Okay. So I took my time digging into the past. Your father had an immense wealth he hid overseas in foreign accounts. Most of the dealings and companies he had invested in were fakes. He used extortion and was also involved in some pretty nasty things over in Jakarta and Libya. No need to go into those details. I’d prefer you remember you father as the monster he was, and not the atrocity he really was, okay?
So Carl came into the picture almost ten years ago. Your father and he dealt in the oil and burrito business.”
“Wait, what now?”
“Burritos, Jazz. The spicy kind. But let’s not get into that. It was all a front of course. They used to ship drugs through containers lined with flour meant for making burritos. This spanned all over continents. The shipments are surprising because my precinct had dealt with such that came through our bay a couple of years back. But we never got the owner. Harvey, as much of a dick and asshole as he was, was quite the clever guy.”
“Spencer…I get that my dad was a bastard. I’ve made my peace with that. Now tell me how this will get me free.” The air in the room is getting thin. No AC and no fan. And a few moments ago we had just spat the floor with our ooze. The smell of sex is not very welcoming in such quarters.
“Harvey used the oil companies as shell corporations for his even bigger business – human trafficking. I know, it took me a while to get that through my head too. I guess his narcissism aided in that venture. Now Carl was his business partner all the way through and through. But what Harvey didn’t realize was that Carl’s family was flat out broke. It was all just a cover. Carl was getting into this with money from heavy loans that he could not pay off. But Harvey couldn’t see it. He thought the Glenn name could be of service. But…”
“He realized it too late, didn’t he? Is that…is that why he sold me out like a farm animal?”
“Jazz,” he starts, swallowing a ton of moist regret, “I’m sorry for what happened. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop apologizing though…but for this next part I’ll need you to be strong.”
My face is wet now. I can guess what he’s about to say. I nod, giving him the green light.
“Harvey sold you on a deal. He used you as business collateral, to make sure his business kept afloat. Jasmine…”
“Keep going…I need you to finish this,” I curse out. He needs to tell it all to me, whether sweet or bitter.
“Okay…You got married to Carl on one condition. That he would never leave you till his death. I assume you knew that in a way…but the catch was even harder – if Carl left you for any reason at all, all the money would be transferred by a third party, an anonymous lawyer, to three charities in Africa, Taiwan and South America, in no particular order. Kinda goes to show how heavy-handed your husband was huh?”
“Yeah…”
Hand holding won’t get me out of these walls and to my son anytime soon.
“And?”
“Carl was well known by even the neighbors to be a bit…adventurous sexually. Since there are no reports to confirm how many times that bastard beat you up like a rag doll, it could all seem very consensual to the judge’s eyes.”
“What could?” I ask.
“Veronica Shingle’s involvement in your lives as a couple. The defense…listen to me Jazz…the defense might bring up that she was an escort trying to glue your marriage to work…Jazz…don’t look at me like that. I’m just shooting facts here. It’s not like I enjoy telling this to you…”
Defiantly I am up, walking around the room to try and grasp his ramblings. I know…it’s not his fault at all. Even the sincerity in the echo off the wall is clear. I walk back round to him and kiss his neck. It’s always been my way of a simple…
“I’m sorry Spencer. Tell me more. Promise I won’t get carried away again.”
“Alright Jazz…it’s the final bit to the mystery. I found the missing link in all of this. Carl left all his wealth to one person and one alone. Her. She is the missing link Jazz. Veronica had the entire motive to bring you down and out. She’s the reason you’re here!”
“Then take it to the courts Spencer…take it to them and make them see and hear that I am innocent. Give them this evidence and…what is that face?” I ask, fleeting hope fluttering away.
His face is doing the thing. It’s a quizzical impression that I had almost forgotten. It’s more of half-constipating look and half-questioning if a fart is really a fart.
“Spencer?”
“Jazz…I just don’t get it. She doesn’t fit the profile.”
“What profile?”
“The killer’s profile. Carl was a tall man, right?”
“Yeah, he tried…and what does that have to do with anything?”
“Veronica Shingle doesn’t strike me as a tall enough woman. You’ve seen her before right?”
A flash of memory streaks through me. I choose to ignore the moans of pleasure that ran through the house when she slammed onto Carl all those times ago. But yes, her height comes to mind every time I saw her fully sixty-nine him on the couch.
“Yeah, she was a short one, dark hair, slutty mask of a face. But what’s to say she didn’t do it?” I ask.
“The missing autopsy reports on your husband Jazz…there was something that keeps nagging me from the preliminary stages. When we were at your house a little over a week ago to case the place the morning after the incident, the forensics team taking the shots for the crime scene tagged the murder done by a heavy person, at least six feet tall.”
“You know what this means right?” I implore, my eyes widening with the development.
“She had an accomplice. And we are only that one step closer to finding the truth,” he says. His tongue is in his cheek.
One more step and we can finally put all this to rest. I miss my son. I want him to know about his true father, and this I cannot do in silver bracelets.
“Jazz, I need to find her now and bring her in. With the right questions I know she will crack. Hey…”
Hands entwined, like vines in a meadow, he soothes my low spirits. It goes without saying that this will be over soon. I can see it in his eyes. The beauty in their purity is something I will never forget. No…this is what love becomes when it transcends. It becomes trust.
“My life in your hands Spencer Winters,” I whisper, letting the flutter of my lips instill my faith in his. He holds onto me tightly. I can hear his heartbeat. “I’m never leaving you again Jasmine. And…” he stares longingly into me, “life is only
going up from here on out. You hear me Miss Turner?”
“Aye, aye Cap!” I holler. His feet are by the door, and his hands swift enough to have enabled the security camera once more. Once open and through the frame, Maggie comes into the frame smiling like an idiot.
“Oh shut up,” I giggle. The grin on her face is enough to remind me that the walls are not truly soundproof in here.
Chapter 21 - Spencer
Fathers are one of the most iconic pieces of the chessboard when it comes to raising children. Their role is just as important as the mothers’, and especially in the forefront of imprinting life-saving advice that may be used for future generations.
My dad was one was of those dads. He stood for everything that was right, and believed in equity over equality. Even when teaching me how to throw ball, he would always take the opportunity to let me imbibe the biblical words of a man made hard by the world all round him. He never took a bribe as a cop, and not once did he fail to help a person who was in need.
Once, I was having one of my usual and very frequent existential crises. I never got around the point of existence, and always saw this as a farce. This whole thing we call life; it felt like a scam and more of a game to me really. Never did I think of suicide, but when days got hard at my middle school I found it less likely that there was a big greying man in white watching over all my actions. Mum always laughed at how I would prove to her that the earth was not a footstool, and dad would always keep silent at the prospect of me telling, yelling at him the madness of a creator who gave little kids cancer.
So he cleared the whole thing for me the day I brought home an F in History. He sat me down by the creek down by the Ponds, and took out a candy bar. Breaking it in half, we ate and stared at the flowing ebbs and eddy of the water. The sun was getting pretty low, and the cold was getting close. It was autumn, and the last days of it.
Triple Pass: An MFMM Reverse Harem Romance Page 52