Burn (Indigo)

by Hubbard, Crystal

  “Gian,” Cinder began, “are you rich?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  She almost forgot as he moved his soapy hands over her shoulders and chest, paying special attention to her breasts and their tips, which hardened under his touch.

  “The guys at Sheng Li talk about your house as though it were a palace,” she said. “And if you have a tub big enough to seat seven, I’m thinking your house must be pretty fancy.”

  “It’s a green house and it cost me next to nothing,” Gian said softly, his lips so near her ear, his words caressed its sensitive lobe. “My brother Pio is the family moneybags. He builds ecologically friendly homes called green houses. I bought one of his displays. He sold it to me for an eighth of the market price.”

  “What’s the market price for one of his green homes?” Cinder asked, her eyes slowly drowsing shut. Gian pinched her nipples just hard enough to trigger urgent pulses between her legs.

  “In Webster Groves? A little over three-quarters of a million.”

  Cinder gasped. Gian wasn’t sure if was because of the price he’d named or the busy work of his fingers.

  “He recently sold one in Santa Monica for six million,” Gian said.

  “I suppose it all comes down to location.” Cinder tilted her head back and turned her face to Gian, catching his mouth with hers. They shared a deep, penetrating kiss that harmonized with the action of Gian’s right hand, which had found the heat between Cinder’s legs. Two of his long fingers filled her while his thumb mined her hard, extended jewel. She reached back to thread her fingers through the hair at his nape, her backside grinding against his stiffened length.

  Still kissing him, Cinder braced her toes against the front of the tub. Her shoulders bore her weight as she slid her wet, soapy body upward until the rigid tool at her back popped out between her opened legs.

  Cinder maneuvered herself into position to receive the instrument Gian now guided lightly with his fingertips. He aimed it toward Cinder’s yearning darkness and she did the rest, lowering herself until she was filled.

  Gian’s head fell back, his body trembling. Thoughts of Heaven and eternity swirling through his mind, Cinder’s thighs began working once more, allowing her to rise and fall in long, deep strokes countering the rapid, feathery flicks of Gian’s fingers at her eager pink pearl.

  Cinder took her neglected right breast in hand and raised the firm round of flesh as high as she could. Awkwardly, desperately, Gian craned his head over her shoulder to take the straining nipple into his mouth. Cinder kissed him as he suckled her, her own tongue laving her flesh along with his.

  Sensation overloaded her, and her orgasm ripped through her with enough force to make her cry out. She clamped around Gian so tight that he came suddenly, his jaw locking. His teeth fastened around Cinder’s nipple, adding another dimension of pleasure to her carnal response. Breathing hard, her jaw clenched and she rode out each rapturous pulse, her hips moving on their own in an ancient rhythm meant to draw everything Gian had.

  Her abdominal muscles ached by the time Gian’s soft kisses to her head and tender caresses to her torso and legs brought her back to her tub and the man withdrawing from her.

  “I’d like you to come to my place for dinner tomorrow night,” Gian told her.

  Cinder sat up, her hips still wedged between his legs. Methodically, she lathered a washcloth and stroked it across her shoulders and chest.

  “You don’t want to?” Gian asked.

  She ran the washcloth over his left knee, making soapy patterns in the whorls of dark hair covering his skin.

  Gian took the towel to wash her back. “Why won’t you come to my house? You don’t have a problem having me over here, so I know it’s not me.”

  “It’s me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m safe here.” She relaxed into the weight and warmth of Gian’s hands on her shoulders.

  “You don’t feel safe with me?”

  She bowed her head. “None of this is about you.” “I understand.”

  Her head popped up. Had there been room to do so, she would have turned to face him. “Do you?”

  “Your apartment is a controlled environment. You know your security, you know your neighbors, you know the building and when the mailman comes, when the meter reader drops by. There aren’t that many unknowns. My place is a whole new world. You’re not ready for it yet. I get it.”

  “How is it that you can explain it so well when I can’t?”

  “Experience, I guess. I know a few things about fear and what it can do to you.”

  “Lucia?”

  “She hardly ever leaves my mother’s house. We don’t know what to do. You can’t reason with fear, you know?” “Yes,” she sighed. “I know.”

  Chapter 10

  “This is the last time we draw cards to pick costumes, and the very last time we have a theme.” Gian’s testy declaration echoed through the empty dojo. The soft plastic soles of his stretchy red boots stuck to the bamboo floor with each step he took around the big vinyl mat. He surveyed his instructors, his shame growing. “Look at yourselves. Sionne, you look like a parade float.”

  Sionne spread his arms wide. The top to his Spiderman costume was stretched so tight over his belly, it rolled itself up like a window shade every time he moved. Pulled so far out of shape, the spider emblem on his chest looked like an overfed waterbug. The skin-tight pants worked themselves up to Sionne’s knees. The back seam appeared to be on a suicide mission as it struggled to contain the considerable dimensions of Sionne’s butt.

  Gian swung his gaze to Cory, who kneeled beside Sionne at the edge of the mat. Like a sail, Cory’s tattered white shirt flapped in the breeze from the open lobby door. His ripped brown breeches, which were supposed to go to his knees, instead reached his skinny green ankles. The brilliant idea of going to a tanning salon had been too effective. Instead of having his own brown skin coated an unnatural shade of gold or orange, Cory had paid the technician to spray him with green vegetable dye. Cory’s natural nut-brown complexion was now as green as the Busch Stadium infield.

  “This is the perfect example of why drawing cards is dangerous,” Gian complained. “Why are you Spider-man?” He indicated Sionne with one hand, while gesturing toward Cory with the other. “And why is he The Incredible Hulk?”

  “We traded cards,” Cory explained simply.

  “He wanted to be the Hulk,” Sionne stated indifferently.

  “Hulk SMASH,” Cory grunted, hunching over and flexing his biceps. Which were the approximate size and shape of baseballs.

  “Honest to God, you guys need your heads examined.” Gian turned to Chip. “Speaking of heads . . .”

  Chip looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with my costume?”

  “Red underpants.” Gian plucked the leg band of part of his own costume. “I never wore red underpants even when I was a kid. Last year I had to be Optimus Prime, this year it’s Superman. Why do I leave it up to you knuckleheads to pick the costumes?”

  Chip snickered.

  “Laugh it up, Blondie,” Gian growled. “You’re not even wearing underpants.”

  Chip looked down again. “You can tell?”

  “Can we tell?” Cory laughed. “Man, we can tell that your mom and pop didn’t believe in circumcision. You can’t hand out candy with that thing starin’ the kids in the eyes.”

  “I’m gonna go change,” Chip decided. He got to his feet and started for the locker room. Before he disappeared around the corner, he turned back to the dojo, the tall black ears of his headgear standing like daggers. “Gian, you want these briefs? Batman doesn’t wear red, but I don’t think the kids will mind.”

  “Hell no!”

  “You don’t wear gray underpants, either?”

  Gian rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Do I really have to explain myself on this one?”

  “I don’t see what the problem is,” Chip said.

  “I don’t
wear underpants that have been rubbing against another guy’s junk,” Gian clarified. “Go put on a cup.”

  Chip and his ears vanished. Gian flipped his red satin cape over his shoulder, convinced that he would trip over the thing at least ten more times before the night was over. “Where’s Aja? Isn’t she supposed to be here?”

  “She’s handing out treats to the kids at the Children’s Home of St. Louis,” Cory said. “She told you she wouldn’t be here tonight.”

  “I wish Zae and the twins would get here already,” Gian fussed.

  “Me, too!” Cory’s eyebrows bounced in enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to see their costumes.”

  “There you go,” Sionne said, tipping his chin toward the lobby.

  Cinder, closely followed by Zae and her twins Dawn and Eve, entered Sheng Li carrying bulging plastic grocery bags, trays covered in foil and a big brown box.

  “Hi, all,” Zae called, hurrying ahead of Cinder.

  Gian’s eyes and mouth opened wide at Zae’s entrance. “What the heck are you supposed to be?” He eyed her super-short leather skirt and huge longbow. Her long hair was slicked back and held off her face with a thick leather band similar to the one around her right upper arm. A quiver of arrows peeked from her left shoulder. But it was the lopsided contents of her revealing leather halter that held Gian’s eye. “Did you leave something at home?”

  “I’m Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons,” Zae stated regally. “Amazons burned off their right breast so it wouldn’t interfere with their archery.”

  “So . . .” Cory started, staring at the less pronounced right side of her halter. “How did you . . . ?”

  “I taped it down,” Zae grinned. “And I have padding on the left side, to make it look bigger so the right side seems flatter.”

  “Cool,” Cory chuckled. He went to Dawn and took the big box from her.

  “Those are candy apples and popcorn balls, so be careful,” Dawn warned.

  In spite of his mood, Gian smiled at the sight of Dawn in her sweetly sexy devil costume.

  “Your costume suits you,” Cinder said, approaching Gian.

  His bad mood and collection of complaints disintegrated in his contemplation of her. She had refused to tell him her costume, but he immediately knew who she was. Sheer white silk wrapped around Cinder’s body, leaving one shoulder exposed and covering everything that needed covering while still starting Gian’s mouth watering. Accents in gold—a corset that looked as if it had been fashioned of gold wire, an arm bracelet in the shape of a snake, flat sandals with gold ties that crisscrossed to the middle of her calves, and a fine gold thread draped across her forehead—gave her a divine sparkle.

  “You’re either Aphrodite or Helen of Troy,” Gian murmured through a kiss. “Either one, and you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Zae talked me into it.” Cinder smiled. “I wanted to be Charlie Chaplin.”

  “I’m glad you went with Zae’s choice.” He wound a dark tendril of her new long hair around his index finger. “I like this. Your short hair is gorgeous, but long hair suits you.”

  “I like your tights.” Cinder grinned. “Blue is your color.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Gian groaned. “Superman has the silliest superhero costume. I can’t wait to get out of this getup.”

  Cinder stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Do we really have to wait?”

  They began backing out of the dojo, but before they could get too far, a parade of princesses, witches, clowns, pumpkins, cartoon and gaming characters and their parents raced into Sheng Li.

  “We’re on,” Gian said. “Happy Halloween.”

  Cinder squeezed his hand. “Same to you. We’d better give them treats before they unleash their tricks.”

  “Slow down, slow down!” Dawn, Zae’s oldest by three minutes, yelled at the gang of Pokemon-costumed children charging the table where bowls of miniature treats sat.

  “Quit yelling at them,” Sionne told her. “They’re excited. They’re kids.”

  “They’re hobgoblins dressed up as kids dressed up for Halloween,” Dawn said, a moue of disgust wrinkling her nose. She adjusted the tinsel halo circling her head and carelessly tossed a handful of candy into a trick or treater’s bag.

  “It’s so funny that Eve is dressed as a devil and Dawn is dressed as an angel.” Gian snickered.

  “I guess the twins switched personalities for the night,” Cinder supposed. She smiled at the sight of Eve, who laughed at the antics of the little ghost in her arms, who put handful after handful of gumballs into his pumpkin bucket.

  “I didn’t think there would be so many kids,” Gian sighed. “I hope the candy lasts. Hey, where’s C.J.?” he asked, referring to Zae’s eleven-year-old son.

  “He’s at a party. He wanted to hang out with his friends tonight. Don’t worry about the candy supply. Natasha has tons,” Cinder said, referring to Natasha Usher, the owner of the bookstore next door. “She said we can get some from her if we run out.”

  “Great,” Gian said. “Time for Superman to get to work.”

  “Have fun.” Cinder gave him a kiss, then watched him march off with his own very special treat: coupons for free introductory karate lessons.

  Cinder took her place at the temporary tattoo table in a corner of the dojo. Children, and even a few teenagers, lined up to choose a martial arts-themed tattoo, which Cinder applied to a hand, arm, cheek, or forehead with a damp sponge.

  During her first lull in business, Cinder tidied her supplies. She looked up to see a six-foot Batman staring down at her. “Shift’s up,” he said. “My turn to stick paint on these little candy grubbers.”

  “Where should I go now?” Cinder asked. “Gian didn’t give me anything else to do.”

  “Two kids lost their mom, so Gian took ’em into the office to call the police,” Chip said. “So there’s no one manning the door and handing out Gian’s coupons.”

  “I can do that.” Cinder left Chip with a long line of tattoo seekers and went to the front door. She found a stack of Gian’s coupons on top of a wire newsstand piled high with Webster-Kirkwood Times, Riverfront Times, and Auto Sales Daily magazines. Coupons in hand, she stepped out onto the sidewalk as a half-dozen children pushed past her to get into Sheng Li.

  “Hi, Natasha,” she said and smiled, greeting Gian’s neighbor.

  “Hey, Cinder,” Natasha called from the center of the children gathered around her. “This is some turnout tonight.”

  Offering smiles and coupons as she went, Cinder worked her way closer to the bookstore. Natasha, the only African-American business owner on Lockwood, met her halfway. “Is it like this every Halloween?” Cinder asked.

  “I can’t remember the last time it was this warm for Halloween,” Natasha said. “The heat seems to have brought everyone out tonight.”

  Lockwood Avenue, Webster Groves’s main street, teemed with ordinary citizens and otherworldly creatures. Across the street in the public parking lot, an inflatable Haunted House entertained dozens of children who shrieked with laughter as they bounced inside. Next door to the lot, employees of Grogan’s Superette, dressed as crash test dummies, offered apples and oranges wrapped in tissue stamped with GROGAN’S SUPERETTE We’re the Best! Every restaurant was decorated and full of customers, with Pelligroso’s Pizza and MacDuff’s Sub Shop enjoying the most business.

  Business was slowest at The Sweet Shoppe, the only candy store on Lockwood. Proprietress Maggie O’Brien didn’t seem to mind. Dressed as Glinda the Good Witch, she handed out puzzle and activity books, super bounce balls, paper doll kits, and kazoos instead of candy.

  Cinder had been outside for a little over an hour when finally, the initial trick-or-treating rush dissipated. Natasha took off her tall, pointy black hat and swiped the back of her wrist across her forehead. “I should have worn a toga, too,” she grinned, her twinkling brown eyes taking in Cinder’s costume. “It’s too hot for all this black satin.”

  �
��I think you look fantastic,” Cinder said, and she meant it.

  “I wonder who that is?” With a subtle tip of her head, Natasha led Cinder’s gaze to a lone figure in black standing under one of the remodeled street lights in front of Grogan’s Superette. “He’s been standing there for the past hour or so.”

  “That long?” Cinder hadn’t noticed him, not with what seemed like a thousand candy-crazed kids demanding treats, forcing jokes and riddles on her, and pulling at her bracelets and corset. She looked at the figure now. The longer she did so, the more sure she was that he was staring back at her. Her throat, suddenly very dry, she had difficulty swallowing.

  “It’s probably Karl Lange, considering the ninja costume.” Natasha lowered her voice, even though it was unlikely the man in the nimbus of light could hear her from so far away. “He’s been talking mess about Sheng Li and Gian ever since he got fired. I don’t even go to Grogan’s for lunch anymore because I’m sick to death of hearing him crab and moan about getting fired.”

  Cinder took a slow sidestep toward the entrance to Sheng Li.

  The ninja’s head followed her.

  “Cinder?”

  Startled, she jumped a foot to the left when Cory appeared on her right, calling her name. “Get Gian,” she croaked, her throat too dry to provide amplitude.

  “I’m on my way out,” Cory explained happily. “The little kiddies are going in and now it’s time for us college kiddies to come out. Mrs. Usher, Gian wants you and your daughters to come over for some Halloween cake. You better hurry. Sionne’s already had four pieces.”

  “The girls will like that,” Natasha said. “I’ll be right there after I close the store.”

  “Please, Cory, tell Gian to come out here,” Cinder quietly begged him.

  “Sure,” Cory replied, his smile fading. “Are you okay?”

  She stared him straight in the eye and said, “Get him. Now.”

  Cory stuck his head back in the door. “Gian! C’mere!”

  Cory’s voice hadn’t finished echoing through the dojo before Gian appeared, his red satin cape swirling at his ankles. “What’s the ma—”