BOMAW 1-3

by Mercedes Keyes

  She did know that…the reason she wanted to report what took place in Maggie’s store. She had known when she dialed the number, that all it would be was a written report. Still the same, she wanted them to know and see this now before the wind or snow covered the evidence of an unwelcome presence. As she stood accepting this, the second officer, who was also the one that followed her home two nights ago, couldn’t help but think of the group by the store, especially the blond man. He was a stranger around town. He wasn’t a local that he could easily identify because he knew just about all of Camp Daniels citizens by face. He wasn’t one of them. New in town or not, there were laws against harassing someone simply because they were new. He just couldn’t do it. He looked at the woman before him nervously chewing on her bottom lip and felt a deep compassion for her fear.

  “Sylvia…we have to go. Before we do, make sure you keep your phone at your side at all times. I don’t want to scare you, considering what's going on, I know you already are. Just keep your phone in quick reach. Program into it right now, with us standing here, 911 into the nine. That way, all you have to do is hit it to alert us of an emergency here. We won’t waste a moment getting here. That’s all we can do now.” Sighing, she nodded thankfully; did as she was told with them there, and then escorted them to the door.

  * * * * *

  The pilot made the announcement that they’d be arriving in Madison in about another thirty minutes, running through his usual flight blurb when coming to its end. Shawn sat deep in thought, not paying it much attention, and of course, of late, his mind was on one thing and one thing only…Sylvia. He hadn’t received a phone call back after his several attempts to reach her. Common sense told him she wouldn’t be there at the airport to meet him because she wouldn’t know his arriving flight, so he’d have to rent a car.

  He just hoped everything was alright. It had been the last time they talked on the phone. Everything had been light-hearted and happy between them. He couldn’t imagine what in the world had happened to make her disregard his phone calls. Especially when he knew that she enjoyed talking to him, just as he did her. Having come to the realization in his mind after leaving Deidre, that he indeed was in love with Sylvia, he saw no reason to hold back from pursuing her. Oh, but just because he knew that he was in love with her, he wasn’t so foolish as to tell her that. He wasn’t about to hand his heart over to someone who might possible tramp all over it. Before he disclosed that feeling, he would have to be sure that she felt the very same thing for him.

  Although he felt she did, one could never tell when dealing with a woman like her. Chuckling to himself; he could see, that for the first time in his life…he actually had to work hard and plan a strategy to get a woman. When all of his life, or at least most of it, he’d been stuck with trying to figure out how to let someone down gently, without too much undo hurt. And here he was now, jumping through hoops to get this saucy wench. If truth were to be told, he wouldn’t have her any other way. Even so, at times like now…when she was being difficult, for God only knew why…it drove him crazy. One thing was certain, she had better have a good reason for this one. Even though he was jumping through hoops to get her, he decided it was time to put his foot down with this one, to show her he was no wet-behind-the-ears punk to be walked all over by a self-assured latent dominatrix...getting even with him for the past affront to her ancestors. This thought instantly conjured up an image of Sylvia in thigh-high black patent leather boots, complete with whip in hand…and him, face down, handcuffed to the bed, naked as the day he was born. The mental picture made him chuckle with a shake of his head, rubbing his wrist from the imagined handcuffing, making him shiver.

  “Not me, you’re not! I ain’t no whippin’ boy,” he said low.

  True to his thought, upon landing and exiting the gate, no Sylvia. So be it. He took off for the shuttle bus after collecting his luggage and rented a car for the drive home. Every little bit of the way, his emotions went from building anger, to anticipation of seeing her again…and a good fight. Yes, that was part of the attraction to her. Unlike other women who tried to avoid fighting with him for fear he would break it off, she could give a flying hoot. She would give as good as she got, and nothing built a stronger animal lust in him than a fiery woman…and Sylvia Payne was just that.

  * * * * *

  She was too nervous, for too many reasons to sit and write. Shawn was on his way home, and this thing with someone at her window…

  She pushed her chair back from the desk, standing from it she left, going into her kitchen. Maybe she should eat a little something. She stood looking into her refrigerator for five minutes and decided that wasn’t it. She hadn’t showered since yesterday morning, and decided to go shower and freshen up. First, she checked and locked her doors. Leaving the kitchen, she happened to glance down and noticed scuff marks on her white vinyl-tiled floor. Dropping into a squat before them, she traced one with the tips of her fingers in thought, concluding it must be from the police officers. Making a face, she scratched at it with her nail, thinking, I gotta scrub that up soon as I get out…thank you very much. Saying out loud, “Darn flatfoots.” She stood and proceeded on to her bedroom, shedding her clothing en route, suddenly stopping in the middle holding her blouse to her chest, thinking about the window. She quickly walked over to it, closing the blinds and the curtains, making sure it too was solidly locked.

  Leering lecherously through her cracked open basement door, cold ice blue eyes followed her, observing her progress through the house to her bedroom. Patiently, like a spider perched in the shadow at the edge of its web awaiting the perfect moment to pounce on its prey, he stealthily crept out of his hiding place as she moved on into the bathroom for her shower.

  Turning as the spray made tiny pitter pats and rivulets, massaging her body, Sylvia reached for the soap and began lathering down. Across the top of her arms, underneath, down each side, and across her belly. Turning again, she propped a leg up on the side of the tub, reaching down to lather it. From the corner of her eye she caught a fleeting shadow through her shower glass door, freezing her movements as she slowly rose, staring through the misty glass to her bathroom door. Moments later, she exhaled, only then realizing she’d been holding her breath.

  “Sylvia, don’t start trippin’! Great, now I’m seeing things.” She shook her head and continued on with her shower, oblivious of her silent observer who stood hidden behind her bathroom door, peering with lustful anticipation through the opening between the hung side and the door facing, eagerly stroking his stirring arousal. Suddenly he heard her turning off the shower. Salivating like a starving wolf presented with an easy kill, he watched her slide back the shower glass door with narrowed weasel-like ice blue eyes, and gulped at the first sight of one long, brown shapely wet leg. With baited breath, he licked his lips in expectation then watched her step from the shower in all of her brown, naked, shimmering glory, tearing his eyes from her voluptuous breasts, down over her flat belly to the thick, black thatch triangle covering where he longed to go.

  Patting herself dry, Sylvia began the ritual of spreading lotion on her body. Propping a foot on the toilet seat, she began there. Completely massaging the lotion into the skin of her foot, ankle, calf, up over her knee and behind, further up still working it into the circumference of her thigh. Grabbing the bottle to squeeze out more, she massaged it onto the cheeks of her butt, and then treating the next leg with the same. The spectacle aroused her stalker even more. To his perverse delight, she began smearing her belly and breast with the lotion with such exquisite slowness, he knew she enjoyed what she was doing as much as he enjoyed watching her. Covering her body and arms with the same thoroughness he planned to take once he moved in to invade her.

  Finishing up as always, Sylvia put her deodorant on under her arms, and then, grabbing her feminine deodorant spray, spread her legs and applied it to her most intimate area.

  Turning, she sat at the vanity, reaching for the bottom drawer, sliding it
open to see something that was like a slam to her chest. Her delicate articles, her lingerie, had been rifled through. She had a habit of always keeping her drawers neatly arranged, folded and sorted to almost perfection. What she saw now, was absolute evidence that someone had been in her house. Gasping in panic, she quickly moved aside the top panties to reach for the folded ones beneath, letting out a sudden shrill scream with the sound of someone knocking at her door.

  Quickly grabbing her underwear, she thrust her legs within, snatching out a bra, she hurriedly put it on. Running into her bedroom to the dresser, she yanked out a drawer to remove a T-shirt, pulling it over her head. Then down to a lower drawer for a pair of sweats, when the knocking sounded again, this time louder, accompanied by, “Sylvia! I know you’re home…now open this door!”

  With silent speed, she ran to the door as her unknown intruder slid into her closet, frustrated at the sudden interruption of his plans. He’d stepped from the door about to attack her when she was bent over the drawer, but the knock had halted him, making him dart back behind the door. Now he stood in the closet, silent, watchful…and waiting.

  Rushing to the door, Sylvia hated to admit it, but she was glad he was home. He was finally back! The minute she snatched open the door, it was with the intention of throwing herself into his arms, however, his angry gruff expression halted her.

  “Where the hell have you been! I’ve been trying to reach you for two days! Late at night—I might add!” He was pissed and it showed. That immediately put her on the defensive.

  “Excuse me! Don’t come up in my house, yelling at me about where I’ve been! Don’t worry about where I’ve been!”

  “Well, thank you very much! My trip went well! The flight was fine! And the rental car drives nice! Thank you very much for your concern!” he fumed sarcastically, following Sylvia further into the kitchen. “Since it's apparent that you’re fine…I take it there’s a reason why you’ve all of a sudden changed from the other night when we spoke, to completely ignoring my phone calls and leaving me to rent a car when you were suppose to pick me up!”

  “I have other things going on. It didn’t kill you to rent a car. I’m not gonna be running like some fool at your beck and call, Shawn Everett McPherson—Styles! Furthermore, it seems to me…you have other options for getting someone to pick you up at the airport, and I don’t know why you didn’t call her.”

  “What?! What’s that suppose to mean?”

  “Yeah, right! As if you don’t know! I don’t have time for the games. I explained that to you from the very beginning. But foolish me, I got caught up into playing it with you anyway…and now…I’ve had enough. No more! So I’m glad you had a nice trip. A safe flight. A way home. Now kindly turn around and leave my house, I have things going on… I’d just as soon get back to them. Goodbye!”

  “Wait, wait, wait, wait! Hold your horses, lady! You’re not going to get rid of me that easily! I want to know what’s going on here!”

  “Sounds like a personal problem to me. Please take care of it across the road, and not in my house…as I said…goodbye!”

  “Yeah, well, the thing is, I’m in the dark here! I’m not going anywhere until you shed some light and tell me what’s going on!”

  "Fine, let me shine a torch on it for you, just to make it a little clearer. Oh, and by the way, perhaps you’d like a drink first, let me see…ooooh, how’s about a littleSherry?” she threw the name out sarcastically. Shawn stood in a dumb-like state trying to figure out where this was leading to, and finally answered, “No thanks on the sherry. I hate sherry, can’t even stand sherry on my lips.”

  “Funny, that’s not what I’ve heard!”

  “What—in the hell—are you talking about?” he bit out.

  Getting fed up and not wanting to continue the fight with him, Sylvia blurted out, “Sherry! That’s what this is about.”

  “Sherry? Who in the hell is Sherry?”

  “Oh, oh, oh…how convenient selective memory is. Not convenient to remember Sherry now, so you don’t know who she is…but, oh, she sure knows who you are, so much so, that she knows your real name. I mean, I can understand her knowing you by Everett, but she knows your personal name…wanna tell me how that is? No, no, no, no, never mind…like I said…don’t bother and neither will I. Just leave, okay, just leave!”

  For a moment he didn’t answer, nor did he move, he stood milling the name over in his head and saying it out loud. “Sherry? Sherry? Sherry?”

  “Figure it out across the street, please.”

  “Will you hush a moment here, I’m trying to think,” he returned.

  “Don't you tell me to hush! Think someplace else, not here…now go!”

  “Lady…you can cry ‘go’ all you want…but I’m telling you, I don’t know anyone by the name of Sherry.”

  “You liar! How can you stand here and lie to my face?”

  “Liar? I have no reason to lie to you! Furthermore, I don’t appreciate you accusing me of being a liar!”

  “Well somebody's lying, then, and she knows your personal name. How do you explain that?”

  “First of all, who in the hell is this she or…Sherry? What does she look like?”

  Crossing her arms over her breast, at first Sylvia played the mulish treatment. Shawn stood with his arms crossed over his chest mimicking the gesture. “Well? What does she look like?” Sighing, Sylvia finally described her. Afterwards, Shawn ran the description through his memory, then his eyes got wide.

  “That little bitch! Oh, now I remember her!”

  “Good for you! Goodbye!”

  His response was to remove his coat and toss it to one of her kitchen chairs. “You want me to leave? You tell me what happened with this Sherry, first.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything, and you’re starting to piss me off! Now get out of my house, or I will call the police to remove you!” she threatened.

  He was stunned, and for a moment he considered saying, the hell with it, but he couldn’t…he just couldn’t. Instead he went to the table, pulled out a chair, sat down, then waved a hand toward the phone on the wall. “Okay…call’em. Because until you tell me what I want to know, that’s the only way you’re getting me out of here.”

  So angry she could scream, Sylvia charged to the phone, picked it up off the hook, holding it…she stared at him, he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Damn you, Shawn!” She slammed the phone back onto its base, knowing there was no way she could call the police on him. Confused about everything, she stubbornly crossed her arms across her breasts and leaned against her counter, not saying another word. He sat there quiet as well, watching her, and waiting. When she remained quiet, he sighed, leaning forward and said,

  “Okay…then let me tell you when and where I met her. It was around the time I first got here. During the couple of weeks you and I weren’t speaking, for whatever reason at the time. A friend of mine came to visit me. We went to the bar in town—”

  "Yeah, right! I haven't seen or noticed anyone visiting you there!" she announced.

  Disregarding her words, Shawn paused and started again. “As I was saying, we went to the bar in town. We had a few drinks and shot some pool. As this is going on, the little bitch you mentioned had been doing everything possible to get my attention, except for stripping or standing on her head. Finally, she had the nerve to pick my fu—freakin’ pocket, thought it was funny and started reading my license out loud. She finally got my attention, however didn't like it once she had. To put it simply, I told her she ever do that again, I’d have her arrested. Of course, I said more than that. A lot more colorfully, but you get the picture. Haven’t talked to her since, even though she’s tried to get my attention in other ways. She’s a cheap little whore, and I wouldn’t let the family pet do her. Thus…how she knows my real name.”

  Sylvia looked down away from him. She believed him. He was telling her the truth and she knew it. Regardless, that didn’t change anything. She was stu
pid for letting this get started in the first place.

  “It’s the truth, Sylvia. The honest to god truth. I only got one of what’s hanging between my legs…I ain’t about to be using it—”

  “There’s no need to be crude, I don’t wanna hear all that,” she said finally. “Look…” she started, then stopped, looking up from the floor at him. “This shouldn’t be happening…between us,” she said, swallowing.

  With an incredulous look on his face, he drew back exclaiming, “What?! What’s that suppose to mean?”

  “You're white! I’m black! Relationships are hard enough! I don’t need the added pressure and stress this combination will bring, so let’s just put on the breaks right now before it goes any further.”

  Shawn felt his heart speed up. He stared at her dumbfounded, then very slowly, stood from his seat. Walking to the middle of the kitchen floor, he stared, his mind working with something to say to that. Then something occurred to him. “Did you tell this to your daughter as well? Unless my eyes deceive me, Victor is white. Pale Blonde, sky blue eyes, fair skin…the whole nine yards! What’d you tell her?”

  “That's her life! This is mine. Besides, she did that behind my back! She ended up pregnant. It was out of my hands. What was done, is done. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it. Now, please, let’s just end this before it goes any further.”

  “So, you’re telling me…you don’t want me? Is that what you’re saying?” he asked huskily, his voice laced with low fear that she could clearly hear. Slowly he approached her against the counter. Sylvia turned her head aside, not wanting to look at him. “I asked you a question. Because I can tell you right now…I want you.”