by Estes, Danny
“Did you not just do that?”
“That was more or less a bribe to get you back in bed, and now that you are in bed, I plan on keeping you here all day and throughout the night, of which I promise little will be used for sleeping.” And in keeping to that promise, she shifted to sit astride his hips, though he was far from being ready again, and holding the headboard to either side of his head, Jill leaned into his face and demanded Randolph kiss her as she passionately kissed his lips.
“Jill,” he tried when she pulled back a little to catch her breath, “we really need to discuss the future.”
“The future can attend to its ugly self today, as tomorrow will come soon enough. So let’s leave it outside the door while we explore paradise here inside this room.” She sat back further to help invigorate a response from Randolph’s lower half, and took both of his hands to place them on her breasts. Then shaking out her lengthening hair, Jill moved her hips over his two boys, trying to draw out the strength of the man between them. After only a short time of encouragement, Jill smiled at his response from her combined talents, and shifted, lowering a hand in aid of taking him in with such a look of passion in her eyes, Randolph felt his heart flutter in anticipation. He was going to give her multiple pleasures before he succumbed to his own.
By nine that evening, Randolph’s lips were beyond tired as he held Jill, slowly drifting off to sleep. Jill kept astonishing him with how often she managed to get him up for more activity beyond what he felt a man was capable of. And now as their hearts slowly began settling in for a well-deserved rest, his mind took over, briefly comparing the two sides of Jill which he’d seen today as they both shared equally their joining bodies.
The next morning as Jill finished off breakfast, sitting Indian style with the bedclothes covering her bare legs, she asked, “Well, what of the plan involving this Hilden character, can we still go ahead with that?”
“Oh sure, if you want to start World War Three,” Randolph remarked, wearing a brown robe, relaxing in a chair angled for best viewing pleasure, and nursing a decent cup of coffee. He looked up into the growing irritation in her eyes, and explained further. “After getting you out of jail, there’s no way Mr. Hilden couldn’t know I’m a live and free, practically on his front door step, and knowing this, he has to surmise I’m rather pissed at him.” As she finished off her orange juice, Randolph elaborated further, partly for his own good. As I’d really like to do some serious damage to that SOB. “To have tied the noose so securely about my neck in order to make certain of my participation in his murderous scheme, he’d had to have gotten detailed records furnished to him by the police and possibly some of my victims.”
“But they can’t know everything about you, or you would’ve been caught long ago.”
“True, but he knows enough. I may be able to circumvent all kinds of electrical components and dig my way into software programs, but there’s one factor I can’t work around, and that’s old fashioned bodyguards and roaming patrols.”
“But I thought you didn’t have to get into his home or office to do your thing?” Jill put her plate on a pillow and adjusted the covers, to the disappointment of his eyes.
Briefly he considered upping the temperature to encourage the removal of such obstacles to his viewing pleasure; even if he couldn’t physically enjoy her body right now, he could at least enjoy looking while they talked. Shrugging that thought aside, Randolph stretched his legs to work out some kinks. “In most cases that’s true, but Mr. Hilden is a professional, the proverbial silent partner, who can pull the strings so no attachments can leave physical traces to his handiwork. Such a man would only have damaging evidence in his personal computer which I can guaranty is unplugged to the world at large. And as a home is much easier to guard against intrusions then a public building, everything I’d need would be safely hidden deep in the hornets’ nest.”
Jill propped her elbows on her knees to rest her chin on her hands and asked, “If this is so, considering you’re an unwelcome security risk, how safe would it be for us to simply get lost?”
Randolph sighed with regret, and put his hands behind his head considering Jill’s perfectly logical suggestion, putting himself into Mr. Hilden’s shoes. “Not very. Being a personality needing power, his insecurities would conclude rightly I’d show up sooner or later and become an inconvenience. Thusly I know he’d have a large reward already posted for my death to insure I kept on the run.”
“That won’t do,” Jill said with such finality in her voice Randolph turned his head to look at her closely. “If we’re to have a life and family we can’t be looking over our shoulders fearing a laser shot to the back of the head. I’ll have to take him out first.”
“Jill, you know my feeling about such an act. Besides, even if you did, the credits for my disposal will still be enforced.”
“How do you know that?” Jill asked, waving a hand in the air.
Randolph turned on the computer and typed in a simple question, “Who are the walking dead?” In seconds, a list of names and videos appeared in alphabetical order. Scrolling down to one with his likeness, he hit enter and allowed Jill to see what he meant. “As you can see, in case of his untimely death, funds will be allocated from the dispensation of his holding to insure I and the one who killed him will not live to enjoy his retirement.” Randolph scrolled down a bit more to a detailed description of himself and pointed out, “And it appears he’s already gained some information on you as a second target. Thus, he’s covering all the bases.”
“Well, what can we do?” Jill asked, slouching to this news.
“That I haven’t figured out yet.” Musing aloud, he concluded, “To remove our problem, Mr. Hilden has to become credit-less. To do so thoroughly, I have to walk into the hornet nest and spend some quality time with his files.”
Now that Jill had reawakened his thinking process, Randolph spent the next two days working over plausible paths to Mr. Hilden’s computer, ignoring Jill in his adventure, stressing to Jill’s softer side he needed the time alone to muddle out their problem.
On the third day, when a plausible plan took shape, Jill took his idea with extra enthusiasm, throwing him down on the bed and taking him like a man would a woman, not understanding Randolph was still in the developmental stage of his plan and therefore prone to tune out surrounding activity till he hashed it out—
“Ow! What was that for?” Randolph exclaimed, rubbing his cheek as she glared down on him with her hand readied to land another hard slap.
“If I’m going to make love to you, you damn well better be paying attention!” Jill angrily said, dismounting and donning her robe before sitting at the table.
“How’d you know I wasn’t?” Randolph asked, sitting up, closing up his own robe least she decided to take out her wrath on his two boys too.
“Because I could feel you softening up at the very point I needed you to be otherwise,” Jill growled, reaching into the cooler and extracting a beer. “Just because I’m not the one in love with you, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like you showing me a little affection too.”
“Look, Jill, I’m sorry,” Randolph tried as she downed half the bottle.
“Yeah, sure, don’t mind me, I’m tough as nails, so why should you waste any affection on me?”
“Jill, please, it’s not like that. I’ve details to work out and an inspiration hit me in the midst of what we were doing, that’s all. Once I had it securely implanted in my mind I would have been back with all the lust any man has in the midst of sexual pleasure.”
Jill downed another quarter and ignored him with a huff of disbelief. Sighing, Randolph got up and pulled one out for himself. “Whether it was you or your softer side out wouldn’t have made any difference at that moment, but if you need reassuring, I’ll, uh…um…make it up to you somehow.” He snapped off the top, and took a swig, deciding to drop the subject. “As it appears I can’t convince you just now, do you mind moving so I can follow up with my idea�
�owww—!” Randolph moaned, dropping the bottle and grabbing her hand, which had moved with speed under his gaping robe.
Jill squeezed his nuts, using her finger nails to dig even deeper. “This is how I feel right now, and instead of being reassuring, you push me aside. Well I’ve news for you, Jack-O, I’m just as much a woman as she is, with all the emotions and sensitivity she has. So I’d suggest you think of them the next time we’re involved or I guaranty you’ll be missing these useless things.” Jill gave his nuts one more crushing squeeze before she got up and shoved him out of her way.
Chapter Eighteen
Randolph folded up around himself on the floor. Curled up for a time, Randolph wondered if Jill was really worth the trouble, but while he was running over those thoughts, gentle hands touched his shoulders, causing him to flinch out of reflex.
“Oh, John, I’m so, so sorry. Here let me help you up.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather you get away from me for a while.”
“But, John, I didn’t do this—I could never hurt you so callously.”
“I don’t care which one you are, just get the hell back!” Randolph snapped.
She scooted away. “John, please…” Jill sniffed, making him feel like a heel, knowing which Jill he was snapping at.
Using the bed as support in sitting up, Randolph saw Jill standing some feet away, tears rolling down her cheeks, looking for all the world as if he’d slapped her hard. And in a way I guess I had. Not liking the way he felt, Randolph relented and waved her over to aid him up into the chair.
“Can I get you anything? A cold pack, perhaps?”
“No thanks, just give me some room to work, okay?”
“Yes, love, anything you want, just ask.”
While Randolph reset his security codes to begin his search for the perfect candidate to get the ball rolling, Jill cleaned up the mess on the floor and opened another bottle for him before settling on the bed, picking up a magazine pretending to keep herself occupied as he worked.
To find the right person involved a lot of research, for Randolph knew they couldn’t just go to anyone with greed standing on his or her shoulders. No, the perfect candidate had to have clout and be willing to strike lasting bargains, so when he came across Mr. Sterling’s profile, Randolph knew he had their man. So he dug out their Scandinavian passports, typed up an irresistible letter, and sent it to Mr. Sterling’s office. With that out of the way, he started in on the Jamaican boss’s bank account, though he knew by now it should be emptied by the state or his partners. But then again, one never knows. As he began the process, the table moved under his fingers. Looking for the cause, Randolph saw Jill had planted her robe-covered butt on the table. As she hadn’t slapped him to gain his attention, Randolph looked up past crossed arms and a set chin below watching eyes, looking as if she had a bad taste in her mouth.
“Randolph, I’m sorry. I should not have done that to you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” he remarked, turning back to the screen, typing to let loose the dogs of inquiry and leeches of passwords.
She sighed. “You’re not about to make this easy for me, are you?”
“Why should I? Anytime you get mad, I get hurt.”
Jill stayed quiet for a bit; he imagined she was searching her thoughts, trying to come up with some rational reason for her disposition, then must have concluded there was none. “Come on, it’s three in the morning. How about coming to bed?”
Randolph glanced at the time, having lost track of it, then shrugged. “Maybe later. I’m busy right now.”
“In other words, you’re still mad and you’d rather sleep with her than me.”
Randolph leaned back in his chair and sighed before he tried to explain. “Look, Jill, this has nothing to do with you or her. Whenever I’m on a job, I’m like this. I lose track of time, I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, I don’t do much of anything till I’ve accomplished what I set out to do, or barring that, I work to a point I’m comfortable in leaving it for a time.” After that admission, Randolph guessed Jill chewed on that for a minute or so before concluding he wasn’t lying, for she nodded and left for the bathroom. Regardless of what she did next, Randolph stayed at the computer till the yawns became too frustrating. At which point, rubbing his face and feeling the stubble, he stretched tired arms and legs, noting it was eight in the morning. Shutting down his work, he stretched his stiff legs in a walk to the bathroom for a hot shower and shave before heading to bed.
Their flight out to the frozen lakes was miraculously uneventful, even with the price on their heads by Mr. Hilden and nearly all law agencies, proving good makeup and body-adjusting clothes made a world of difference while one was surrounded by rush hour crowds. As for getting in the building to see the senator, that took far more elaborate measures; retina-changing eye-wear, finger-print altering skin grafts, and other basic changes, all compliments of the Jamaica's bank account, which Randolph was delighted to find still intact. A rather blessed windfall, considering the amount of the bribe he had to render to the physician for the specialty items to secure the changes for the pair of them without having to worry about being handed over to Mr. Hilden or the authorities.
Seated in Mr. Sterling’s outer office under the eyes of his competent secretary after an hour of security clearance, Jill looked lovely next to Randolph in her long-sleeved, ankle-length blue and green dress, high heel wrap-around shoes of black, and a thousand-credit finely-crafted sterling silver chain necklace and jewel-encrusted green hand bag.
Randolph leaned close to her stylish hair, which still held a whiff of pleasurable perfume and whispered into her ear, knowing full well the directional microphone on the secretary’s desk would pick him up,
“Now, dear sister, let me do all the talking—the senator is a very busy man, and we mustn’t confuse the issue with the pair of us talking.” Jill nodded her acceptance as they’d discussed before entering the building, whereby Randolph sat back comfortably in his chair wearing a middle-priced suit of black, the standard suit for up-and-coming managers and business secretaries of low rank, chosen specifically to give off the impression they held no threat to Mr. Sterling’s growing empire.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jurlkus, the senator will see you know.” The secretary messed up their relationship, likely to gain any new reactions to add to their growing file on her computer.
To her bait, Jill corrected the secretary in the high-and-mighty-style voice she’d been practicing all morning. “That’s Miss Jurlkus, and I’ll ask you to correct that in your records now,” Jill indicated, with a strong emphases on the now part.
“Beg pardon, Miss Jurlkus, I’ll see to it immediately,” the woman said as Jill straightened out her dress and stood by Randolph. The secretary pretended to do the changes but was more likely typing up Jill’s mannerisms before the door to Mr. Sterling office swung open for their convenience.
The senator’s outer office, like that of most politicians, was smartly decorated; white walls and pleasing scenic painting, comfortable couches and end tables doubling as drink centers to invite leisure talk, which might come in handy when dealing with his guests or other matters he might wish to invest his time in. His office had been decorated to his own tastes of mostly modern furniture, easy on the eyes natural lighting provided by strategically placed amplifier/reflectors, and very expensive cedar paneling about the walls.
Mr. Sterling stood behind his finely-polished desk of enriched etched glass and offered up his hand in a friendly gesture most politicos advocate in a first meeting. “Mr. and Miss Jurlkus, what a pleasure it is to meet you. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Would you like a drink or muffin?”
“You’re very kind, Senator, and thank you. I believe my sister and I would like a chilled bottle of water by Cornelus Lake, if you have any?”
“A very good choice.” Mr. Sterling smiled; his guest had done some homework on his holding, meaning they weren’t merely part of the crowd but an integral ingredient
that helped inaugurate change in the system. The senator had his secretary deliver the water personally to help placate Jill’s act of irritation, then shooed her out to close the door for better privacy.
“Now then, I must say I’m very intrigued by your letter, Mr. Jurklus. Although you remained purposely vague on details, I’m in hopes we can come to a mutual agreement so I may possess the full knowledge of this incident you say was not in truth an accident, but an orchestrated murder of our gallant men and women in the service.”
“That is our firm wish too, Senator. As journalists, we sometimes come across illicit matters such as this deplorable act which are swept under the rug or ignored entirely. Although never of this magnitude, still, our work can be damaging to reputations of companies and/or business men.”
“I see. So to gain this particular tale, with documented proof, you both wish protection in my great county?”
“With certain concessions, so we may keep providing the public with the truth, while not forgetting exceptional materials we feel you would be interested in, to better serve the man who would be in truth our benefactor.” Randolph meant they could be of mutual help to one another.
The senator sat with his arms resting on the glass and his fingers interlaced, pondering the obvious implication of Randolph’s offer, whereby Randolph saw the instant he had the senator hooked. Once Mr. Sterling’s word of support and hand written agreement on the terms of his help were attained, Randolph presented public documents on the events leading up to and after the murder of Jill’s squadron, including documentation on her sworn testimony at her court-martial, which until Randolph found them, had been hidden in the bureaucracy of double talk and misfiled information. Randolph handed over everything relevant, including names, ranks, dates and places, and saw the senator’s eyes alight with possibilities as his fingers shuffled the papers with glee. The last two sheets Randolph pulled out of his case were the names of the entire unit, their next of kin, and exactly where he’d found all the lost files of the incident to better illustrate the cover up.