by Willow Rose
September 2015
Blake Mills is enjoying his coffee at Starbucks. He enjoys it especially today. He is sipping it while looking at his own painting that they have just put up on display inside the shop. He has been trying to convince the owner of the local Starbucks in Cocoa Beach for ages to put up some of his art on display, and finally Ray agreed to let him hang up one of his turtle paintings. Just for a short period, to see how it goes.
It is Blake’s personal favorite painting and he hopes it will attract some business his way. As a small artist in a small town, it is hard to make a living, even though Blake offers paintings by order, so anyone can get one any way they want it and can be sure it will fit their house or condo. It isn’t exactly the way the life of an artist is supposed to be, but it is the only way to do it if he wants to eat.
Blake decides to make it a day of celebration and buys an extra coffee and a piece of cake to eat as well. He takes a bite and enjoys the taste.
“Looking good,” a voice says behind him. He turns in his chair and looks into the eyes of Olivia.
Olivia Hartman. The love of his life.
Blake smiles to himself. “You came,” he whispers and looks around. Being married, Olivia has to be careful whom she is seen with in this town.
“Can I sit?” she asks, holding her own coffee in her hand.
Blake pulls out a chair for her and she sits next to him. Blake feels a big thrill run through his body. He loves being with Olivia and has never had the pleasure of doing so in public. They usually meet up at his studio and have sex between his paintings on the floor or up against the wall. He has never been to her place on Patrick Air Force Base, where she lives with her husband, a general in the army. Blake is terrified of him and a little of her as well, but that is part of what makes it so wonderfully exciting. At the age of twenty-three, Blake isn’t ready to settle down with anyone, and he isn’t sure he is ever going to be. It isn’t his style. He likes the carefree life, and being an artist he can’t exactly provide for a family anyway. Having children will only force him to forget his dreams and get a real job. It would no doubt please his father, but Blake doesn’t want a real job. He doesn’t want the house on the water or the two to three children. He isn’t cut out for it, and his many girlfriends in the past never understood that. All of them thought they could change him, that they were the one who could make him realize that he wanted it all. But he really didn’t. And he still doesn’t.
“It looks really great,” Olivia says and sips her coffee. She is wearing multiple finger rings and bracelets, as always. She is delicate, yet strong. Used to be a fighter pilot in the army. Blake thought that was so cool. Today, she no longer works, not since she married the general.
She and Blake had met at the Officer’s Club across the street from the base. He was there with a girl he had met at Grills in Cape Canaveral, who worked on base doing some contracting or something boring like that; she had invited him to a party. It was by far the most boring affair until he met Olivia on the porch standing with a beer in her hand overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. She was slightly tipsy and they exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before she turned and looked at him with that mischievous smile of hers. Then she asked him if he wanted to have some fun.
“Always,” he replied.
They walked to the beach and into the dunes, where they enjoyed the best sex of Blake’s life.
Now it has become a drug to him. He needs his fix. He needs her.
“Congrats,” she says.
“Thanks. Now I just hope someone will grab one of the business cards I’ve put on the counter and call me to order a painting. I could use the money. I only had one order last month.”
“They will,” she says, laughing. “Don’t you worry about that.” She leans over and whispers through those pouty lips of hers. “Now let’s go back to your place and celebrate.”
“Is that an order?” he asks, laughing.
“Is that an order, ma’am,” she corrects him. “And, yes, it is.”
Chapter 2
September 2015
Being with Olivia is exhilarating. It fills him with the most wonderful sensation in his body because Blake has never met anyone like her, who can make him crazy for her. Not like this. But at the same time, it is also absolutely petrifying because she is married to General Hartman, who will have Blake killed if he ever finds out. There is no doubt about it in Blake’s mind.
Yet, he keeps sleeping with her. Even though he keeps telling himself it is a bad idea, that he has to stop, that it is only a matter of time before he will get himself in some deep shit trouble. Blake knows it is bad to be with her. He knows it will get him in trouble eventually, but still, he can’t help himself. He has to have her. He has to taste her again and again. No matter the cost.
Their lips meet inside Blake’s studio as soon as they walk in. Blake closes his eyes and drinks from her. He doesn’t care that the door behind him is left open. Nothing else matters right now.
“I thought you couldn’t get out today,” he says, panting, when her lips leave his. “Isn’t the general on base?”
“He is,” she mumbles between more kisses.
It has been two weeks since they were together last. Two weeks of constantly dreaming and longing for her. They communicate via Snapchat. It is untraceable, as far as Blake knows. Blake wrote a message to her a few days ago, telling her about the painting being put up in Starbucks, knowing that she probably couldn’t come and see it. He even sent a picture of the painting. It is also her favorite. She messaged him back a photo of her sad face telling him she didn’t think she could get out, since her husband was home. Usually, she only dares to meet with Blake when her husband is travelling. Even then, they have to be extremely careful. General Hartman has many friends in Cocoa Beach and his soldiers are seen everywhere.
“I told him I was seeing a friend today. It’s not like it’s a lie. I don’t care anymore if he finds out about us. I’m sick of being just the general’s wife. I want a life of my own.”
Blake takes off his T-shirt and her hands land on his chest. He rips off her shirt and several buttons fall to the floor. She closes her eyes and moans at his touches. His hands cup her breasts and soon her bra lands on the wooden floor. He grabs her hair and pulls her head back while kissing her neck. His heart is pumping in his chest just from the smell of her skin.
“You can’t,” he whispers between breaths. “You can’t let him know about us. He’ll kill the both of us.”
Olivia lets out a gasp as Blake reaches up under her skirt and places a hand in her panties, and then rips them off. He pushes her up against a table, then lifts her up, leans over her naked torso and puts his mouth to her breasts. He closes his eyes and takes in her smell, drinking the juices of her body, then pulls his shorts down and gently slides inside of her with a deep moan. She puts her legs around his neck, partly strangling him when she comes in pulsing movements back and forth, her body arching.
“Oh, Blake…oh, Blake …”
The sensation is burning inside of him and he is ready to explode. Olivia is moaning and moving rapidly. His movements are urgent now, the intensity building. He is about to burst, when suddenly she screams loudly and pushes him away. Blake falls to the floor with a thud.
“What the…?”
Blake soon realizes why Olivia is screaming and feels the blood rush from his face. A set of eyes is staring down at him.
The eyes of Detective Chris Fisher.
“Blake Mills, you’re under arrest,” the voice belonging to the eyes says.
Chapter 3
September 2015
“I’m sorry, Mary, there’s nothing I can do.”
I stare at my boss, Chief Editor, Markus Fergusson. He is leaning back in his leather chair in his office on the twenty-eighth floor of the Times-Tower on the west side of mid-town. Behind him, the view is spectacular, but I hardly notice anymore. After five years working there, you simply stop being baffled. Howeve
r, I am actually baffled at this moment. But not because of the view. Because of what is being said.
“So, you’re firing me, is that it?” I ask, while my blood is boiling in my veins. What the hell is this?
“We’re letting you go, yes.”
“You can’t do that, Markus, come on. Just because of this?”
He leans over his desk and gives me that look that I have come to know so well in my five years as a reporter for The New York Times.
“Yes.”
“I don’t get it,” I say. “I’m being fired for writing the paper’s most read article in the past five years?”
Markus sighs. “Don’t put up a fight, will you? Just accept it. You violated the rules, sweetheart.”
Don’t you sweetheart me, you pig!
“I don’t make the rules, Mary. The big guys upstairs make the decisions and it says here that we have to let you go for violating the normal editing process.”
I squint my eyes. I can’t believe this. “I did what?”
“You printed the story without having a second set of eyes on it first. The article offended some people, and, well…”
He pauses. I scoff. He is such a sell-out. Just because my article didn’t sit well with some people, some influential people, he is letting me go? They want to fire me for some rule bullshit?
“Brian saw it,” I say. “He read it and approved it.”
“The rules say two editors,” he says. “On a story like this, this controversial, you need two editors to approve it, not just one.”
“That’s BS and you know it, goddammit, Markus. I never even heard about this rule. What about Brian?”
“We’re letting him go as well.”
“You can’t do that! The man just had another kid.”
Markus shrugs. “That’s not really my problem, is it? Brian knew better. He’s been with us for fifteen years.”
“It was late, Markus. We had less than five minutes to deadline. There was no time to get another approval. If we’d waited for another editor, the story wouldn’t have run, and you wouldn’t have sold a record number of newspapers that day. The article went viral online. All over the world. Everyone was talking about it. And this is how you thank me?”
I rise from the chair and grab my leather jacket. “Well, suit yourself. It’s your loss. I don’t need you or this paper.”
I leave, slamming the door, but it doesn’t make me feel as good as I thought it would. I pack my things in that little brown box that they always do in the movies and grab it under my arm before I leave in the elevator. On the bottom floor, I hand in my ID card to the guard in the lobby and Johnson looks at me with his mouth turned downwards.
“We’ll miss you, Miss Mary,” he says.
“I’ll miss you too, Johnson,” I say, and walk out the glass doors, into the streets of New York without a clue as to what I am going to do. Living in Manhattan isn’t cheap. Living in Manhattan with a nine-year old son, as a single mom isn’t cheap at all. The cost for a private school alone is over the roof.
I whistle for a cab, and before I finally get one, it starts to rain, and I get soaked. I have him drive me back to my apartment and I let myself inside. Snowflake, my white Goldendoodle is waiting on the other side of the door, jumping me when I enter. He licks me in my face and whimpers from having missed me since I left just this morning. I sit down on my knees and pet him till he calms down. I can’t help smiling when I am with him. I can’t feel sad for long when he’s around. It’s simply not possible. He looks at me with those deep brown eyes.
“We’ll be alright, won’t we, Snowflake? I’m sure we will. We don’t need them, no we don’t.”
Chapter 4
September 2015
“Do you come here often?”
Liz Hester stares at the man who has approached her in the bar at Lou’s Blues in Indialantic. It is Friday night and she was bored at the base, so she and her friends decided to go out and get a beer.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
The guy smiles. He is a surfer-type with long greasy hair under his cap, a nice tan, and not too much between the ears. The kind of guy who opens each sentence with dude, even when speaking to a girl.
“It was the best I could come up with.”
“You do realize that I am thirty-eight and you’re at least fifteen years younger, right?”
Kim comes up behind her. She is wearing her blue ASU—army service uniform—like Liz. They are both decorated with several medals. Liz’s includes the Purple Heart, given to her when she was shot during her service in Afghanistan. Took a bullet straight to her shoulder. The best part was, she took it for one of her friends. She took it for Britney, who is also with them this night, hanging out with some guy further down the bar. They are friends through thick and thin. Will lay down their lives for one another.
Liz’s eyes meet those of Jamie’s across the bar. She smiles and nods in the direction of the guy that Liz is talking to. Liz smiles and nods too. There is no need for them to speak; they know what she is saying.
He’s the one.
“So, tell me, what’s your name?” Liz asks the guy. She is all of a sudden flirtatious, smiling and touching his arm gently. Kim giggles behind her, but the guy doesn’t notice.
“I’m Billy. My friends call me Billy the Kid.”
“Well, you are just a kid, aren’t you?” she says, purring like a cat, leaning in over the bar.
The guy lifts his cap a little, then puts it back on. “You sure are a lot of woman.”
Liz knows his type. He is one of those who gets aroused just by looking at a woman in uniform. She has met her share of those types. They are a lot of fun to play with.
“Well, maybe I can make a man of you,” she whispers, leaning very close to his face.
The guy laughs goofily. “You sure can,” he says and gives her an elevator look. “I sure wouldn’t mind that. I got an anaconda in my pants you can ride if you like.”
Liz laughs lightly, and then looks at Jamie again, letting her know he has taken the bait.
“Well, why don’t you—Billy the Kid—meet me outside in the parking lot in say—five minutes?”
Billy laughs again. “Dude! Whoa, sure!”
Billy taps the bar counter twice, not knowing exactly what to do with himself, then lifts his cap once again and wipes sweat off his forehead. He has nice eyes, Liz thinks, and he is quite handsome.
As stupid as they get, though.
He leaves her, shooting a finger-gun at her and winking at the same time. The girls approach Liz, moving like cats sliding across the floor. Liz finishes her drink while the four of them stick their heads together.
“Ready for some fun?” she asks.
They don’t say anything. They don’t have to.
Chapter 5
September 2015
She waits for him by the car. Smoking a cigarette, she leans against it, blowing out smoke when she spots him come out of the bar and walk towards her. Seeing the goofy grin on his face makes her smile even wider.
“Hey there, baby,” Billy says and walks up to her. “I have to say, I wasn’t sure you would even be here. A nice lady like you with a guy like me? You’re a wild cat, aren’t you?”
Liz chuckles and blows smoke in his face. “I sure am.”
Billy the Kid moves his body in anticipation. His crotch can’t keep still. He is already hard.
What a sucker.
He looks around with a sniffle. “So, where do you want to go? To the beach? Or do you…wanna do it right here…?” he places a hand next to her on the car. “Up against this baby, huh?”
Liz laughs again, then leans closer to him till her mouth is on his ear. “You’re just full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“What?” he asks with another goofy grin.
“Did you really think you were going to get lucky with me? With this?” She says and points up and down her body.
The grin is wiped off his face. Finally.
/> “What is this?” he asks, his face in a frown. “Were you just leading me on? What a cunt!” He spits out the last word. He probably means it as an insult, but Liz just smiles from ear to ear as her friends slowly approach from all sides, surrounding Billy. When he realizes, he tries to back out, but walks into Jamie and steps on her black shoes.
“Hey, those are brand new! Dammit!”
Jamie pushes him in the back forcefully and he is now in the hands of Britney. Britney is smaller than the others, but by far the strongest. She clenches her fist and slams it into his face. The blow breaks his nose on the spot and he falls backwards to the asphalt, blood running from it.
“What the…what…who are you?” Billy asks, disoriented, looking from woman to woman.
“We like to call ourselves the Fast and the Furious,” Liz says.
“Yeah, cause I’m fast,” Kim says and kicks Billy in the crotch. He lets out a loud moan in pain.
The sound is almost arousing to Liz.
“And I’m furious,” she says, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his head back. She looks him in the eyes. She loves watching them squirm, the little suckers. Just like she loved it back in Afghan when she interrogated the Haji.
Haji is the name they call anyone of Arab decent, or even of a brownish skin tone. She remembers vividly the first time they brought one in. It was the day after she had lost a good friend to an IED, a roadside bomb that detonated and killed everyone in the truck in front of her. They searched for those suckers all night, and finally, the next morning they brought in three. Boy, she kicked that sucker till he could no longer move. Hell, they all did it. All of them let out their frustrations. Losing three good soldiers like that made them furious. Liz was still furious. Well, to be frank, she has been furious all of her life.