LifeoftheParty

by Trudy Doyle

  When the moon rose she felt his tongue on her, licking, flicking, and she curved herself around until she was on top of him, his cock against her lips. From there she traced the soft side of his underbelly, the curious flatness of skin between his anus and scrotum, so different from her own.

  She took his balls into her mouth and sucked and pulled until his breath heightened, gliding her tongue along the trail of penile veining until her lips curved over his velvety crown, where she sucked, dipping the point of her tongue into the tiny hole before she raised her head and took him fully down her throat. Raised up and down, up and down, up and down and up and down until his own tongue went rampant against her and she was coming and so was he, tiny sparkles appearing before her eyes as her groin burst with pleasure, her mouth flooding with salt and sweet and joy. She swallowed then twisted around to kiss him, her taste in his mouth, his own in hers, her heart atop his, beating an irregular cadence until one slowed and one caught up, melding into a rhythm of one.

  He held her face between his hands and whispered, “I love you, I always will,” not waiting for an answer, tucking her against him. Then, with his hand on her hip, his breath warm against her neck, he fell asleep, deeply and soundly. And when she kissed the hollow at the bend of his arm, she realized this was the only part of him she didn’t know intimately, as unlike her, even with his kisses over every inch of her naked body, he still knew nothing, as what we wish to bare is, in reality, subjective.

  * * * * *

  SUNDAY 3 NOVEMBER

  9:22 A.M.

  Gina awoke to the scents of bacon, toasting bread and coffee. “Oooh,” she groaned, rolling over, “I am in heaven.”

  Doug came out of the kitchen, naked to the waist, a spatula in his hand. “Morning, doll,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Get up, get up. I’m cooking a pound of bacon, and not a slice is safe. I’m hungry enough to eat a whole hog.”

  “Fancy that,” she said, stretching. She grabbed his shirt from the floor and buttoned it over her. When she went into the kitchen he was sliding eggs onto a plate.

  His eyes hooded. “Damn, you look great in my clothes. Come here.” He kissed her thoroughly. “Now make yourself useful and take these out to the table.” A few more trips from the little kitchen and they were at the table, digging in.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been hungrier,” Gina said, nipping her fifth piece of bacon. “And you know, I believe I’m getting used to you. I’m not even sore today.”

  He reached under the table and grabbed her knee. “You’re growing a hide, woman. That’s good.”

  She laughed. Every breakfast should be like this. Every breakfast should include a man as wonderful as Doug, with food as delectably fatty as bacon, eggs and rye bread smothered with butter, all wrapped up in the afterglow of a glorious night of lovemaking. I could get used to this. And then he smiled, the world lighting up anew.

  “What time is it?” she asked, biting into the last slice of bacon.

  “Going on ten.”

  She dropped the slice to her plate. “Jesus! I have to get in the shower.” When Doug rose, grinning wolfishly, she held him back with her hand. “You stay right there or we’ll never get out of here.”

  He winced. “When you’re right, you’re right.” And sat back down.

  Twenty minutes later she was out with a towel wrapped around her, her hair up in clips, hauling her suitcase atop the bed. She flipped it open. “Somewhere in here I have some ‘Falco for Governor’ buttons we had made up.” She dug her fingers into the side pockets. “There’s going to be boxes and boxes of them at the rally, but I’d really like to show up with one—” She stopped cold.

  “What’s that, doll?” Doug called from the kitchen.

  She saw it peeking out from the corner of the pocket, one single word. Mumsford.

  The newsprint had aged, understandably. It was nearly three years old. Slowly, she drew it out until the whole article became clear, just a news clip, really, but looming as large as if it were printed on a billboard. Mumsford Innocent of Drug Charge.

  Her spine iced over.

  “Gina?”

  She could sense rather than see him beside her.

  “Gina?” He grabbed her shoulders, turning her toward him. “Jesus Christ! You’re fucking white! What the hell?”

  “This was in my suitcase,” she said blankly, showing him.

  “What?” He gave her a shake. “Gina—you’re freaking me out. What’s wrong?”

  She looked into his eyes, eyes like liquid crystal, so blue she could swim away in them. Eyes that held so much love, every time they caught hers a bit of her heart broke away. It was time. She couldn’t take it anymore. If the worst that could happen was that he left her, it couldn’t be any worse than this.

  “Read this,” she said, handing him the article.

  He looked at her strangely but snatched it away, quickly taking it in. “This is the case I testified at when we first met. The crack kid who turned a new leaf.” He huffed. “Why is this freaking you out now?”

  She sat on the bed, holding on to the footboard. “Because I don’t know how it got there.”

  “What?”

  “I would never put it there. I never wanted to remember it.” She stared at her hands. The hands were the worst part, now that she recalled. She clenched her eyes, biting back the memory. But she had to remember. And she had to tell him. There was no holding back now. Not anymore.

  He was shaking her. “What the hell’s going on? Tell me what this means.”

  All at once it became clear. She was being vetted. If she wanted him, if she deserved to have him, it could be nothing less than full transparency. She straightened her back, sitting up, and looked him dead in the eye.

  “Doug, I have something to tell you.”

  He stood back. “Okay.”

  “You may not like me when I’m done, you may hate me, in fact, but I have to tell you. If I don’t, it’s over for the both of us.”

  “Gina, what the—”

  “Doug. Please.” When he threw up his hands, she knew she had his attention. He sat on the bed, a few inches away. “Promise me you won’t interrupt until I’m finished.”

  He looked as though he was going to say something but ended up with, “Yes.”

  “Because while I’m telling you this, keep in mind this one thing. This thing I never told you before. I love you.”

  “Gina.”

  “I do, as intensely and deeply as you have the misfortune of loving me. Maybe more so because I don’t deserve you.” He reached for her but she moved away. “Please don’t touch me. I don’t think I could bear it.” She swiped her eyes. “Are you with me?”

  His eyes were liquid. “Yes.”

  “Good.” She gripped the iron bars, struggling to keep her voice steady. “Now. Do you remember that last day of the trial? When we were all called into the district attorney’s office?”

  “Yes. Right before the prosecution rested.”

  “Well, it would have gone on, except for…”

  Funny how clear it comes back to you, the things you try to suppress. But you can’t really, because it always revisits, even worse the second time around.

  I’d been at the top of my game, the girl who never lost a trial, with so many offers, for so many different avenues, I could have closed my eyes and pointed and still come up gold. So when I walked into the district attorney’s office, I was walking on a cloud, so high above the rest of them I couldn’t even see them anymore.

  “Face it, Ted, you don’t have a thing. Besides, the kid’s straight now. A model of rehabilitation. He’s got a wife, a kid and mortgage. And a boss who’s solidly behind him.”

  Ted Parks was skinny then as he’s skinny now. Lanky, some call it, but I wouldn’t. I liked my men with muscles. Gobs of them. “Gentlemen?” He turned to the three lurking like vultures. “I’d like to have a word with Ms. Bardone. Do you mind?”

  The assistant D.A.s all looked at each other,
nattering like a pack of crows. “Sure, Ted,” one of them finally said. “Gina.” Nodding to me as they went out the door.

  I turned to him. Oh Lordy, was this gonna be good. One lift of my patent d’Orsays and I’d squash him like a bug.

  He sat on the edge of his desk, tossing a folder to the table. “See this? Guess what it is.”

  “I haven’t the faintest.”

  He leaned forward. “That’s your boy’s death knell.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh please.”

  He smiled. An oily little curve of the mouth that belied the definition. “That is one joint of Colombian Gold taken from his ashtray by the cop who stopped him for speeding on 295 last week.”

  “What? You must be joking.”

  “Hardly. And you know what this means. Three strikes and he’s out. Mandatory five-year sentence. And worst of worst—your perfect record goes down the drain.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  The smile came back. “Why not?”

  A sucker punch, that’s what it was. A below-the-belt, a cheap shot. But worse than that it was gratuitously heartless, for no other reason besides that he could.

  I stared at him, horrified. “You can’t.”

  He laughed. “I will. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  He crossed his arms, leaning back. “Unless you fuck me.”

  “What?” Did he really say that? It wasn’t possible.

  “You heard me.”

  I turned away. “You go to hell.”

  In a second he was on me, backing me into a table. “Oh Gina, what the hell do you care? It’s just a fuck. Just a slice of me inside a slit of you, moving back and forth so a young man could go home to his wife and kids. Remain a productive member of society. Pay his taxes.”

  “You bastard. You’ll lose your license for this. I’ll report you to the Bar.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Jesus Christ, Gina—who’d believe you? With all those wins? Who doesn’t believe you’re fucking your way through them? Almost everyone out there already thinks you’ve got half of the district attorneys up your cunt anyway.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “Oh really? Did you see those men who just left? If you look out the door they’re already packing up.”

  “I never sold out—ever. I won every case on their merits alone.”

  “And now you’ll lose and send a man to jail. All because you wouldn’t lift your skirt for one lousy fuck you’d forget about a minute after I’m out of you.”

  “Then why even bother? Why do you want me?”

  He leaned over me, arching me back. “Because when I’m in a roomful of those lying bastards out there, when each and every one of them are saying what it was like to fuck you, I’ll be the only one to really know not only what it was like, but also how it would’ve felt to make you lose.”

  I could barely say it. “You’re a monster.”

  “Who’s the monster? The man who wants to fuck you or the woman who will send a struggling man to jail for five years?” He pushed the file to me. “Your choice.”

  I stared at it, my heart pounding out my chest. It was such a simple thing, really. A fuck for freedom. At least that’s what I told myself. In the end, it was even simpler than that. As I stood there, my hands braced on the table, my back to him, I didn’t even have to give him my answer. I didn’t even have to move. All I had to do was stand there, let him lift my skirt and pull my panties down, and a moment later, he was leaning me into the table and sinking in, his hands beside me, white hands, hands that had never pushed anything harder than a pen, and less than a minute later he grunted and it was over. And three hours later, both Lucas Mumsford and I were walking out the courthouse.

  “And an hour after that, you were making love to me.” For the first time in ten minutes she looked at him. His expression was blank. “You took away a bit of dirtiness every time you kissed me. I think I fell in love with you that very day. You were my knight in shining armor. You were going to make me clean again.

  “That’s why I couldn’t have the baby, Doug. I couldn’t think of it. I know it’s a terrible thing to say, because a little innocent baby can’t help it, but I just didn’t know! I didn’t know if it was yours or his, and it’ll shame me to the day I die, but I just couldn’t do it. In the end, it didn’t matter anyway.”

  He stood, going silently to the window. He braced himself against the molding, Gina holding her breath. “He put that in your suitcase,” he finally said, not as question. “When he broke into your room.”

  “Yes.”

  After a few moments more, he said, “Where’s your phone?”

  She grabbed her purse, handing it to him.

  He snatched it, hitting the redial button. “Was his the last call you received?”

  “I think so.”

  He tossed the phone to the bed. “There’s your answer. And there’s your stalker.”

  She glanced to it. PRIVATE CALLER.

  “Just like yourbigfan last night. Looks like the District dick fucked up.”

  “Jesus.” She clasped her damp head. “I should’ve figured it. But why now? After all this time?” She stood, throwing off her towel. “Well, he can’t shut me up anymore.” She went to her suitcase, rifling through it, glancing at the clock. “Damn, we got to get out of here!”

  He slammed her suitcase shut. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “What?” She threw it open. “Of course I am. I have to.”

  “No.” He shoved it off the bed. “The only place you’re going is here.”

  He clamped a handcuff around her wrist and tossed her atop the bed, clamping the other end to the iron headboard. She struggled against him, kicking and cursing so violently a second later he cuffed her other wrist and she was pinned, arms spread and naked against the bars.

  “You bastard! Get me out of these!”

  “No. And I’ll stuff a gag in your mouth if you don’t shut up.”

  “Motherfucker! Bastard! Son of a— Mummph.”

  He leaned over her, his sock in her mouth. “Listen to me and listen to me good. You’re not going to the rally. I won’t allow it. You lost this argument the second you told me you loved me.”

  She rattled the cuffs, screaming muffled oaths.

  He grabbed a tee shirt from his dresser then turned. “Gina, I’m warning you. If you don’t shut up I’ll— Oh fuck it.” He tossed the shirt and, kicking off his jeans, jumped atop the bed.

  “I’ve dreamed of doing this,” he said, crouching between her legs. “You game?”

  More muffled screaming. But when he touched her pussy, she fairly flooded his hand.

  “Oh you’re ready. You’re sooo ready. This is what I love about you. Your spirit of adventure.” He slid himself in.

  She screamed, muffled against the sock. He fucked her like he never fucked her before, the cuffs clanging against the bars.

  “Love me?” he asked, nipping her breast. “Love me or were you lying when you said it?”

  “Mm mmm mmmph. MM MMM MMMPH!”

  He cocked his ear. “What? What? I can’t hear you!”

  “MMMMMMPPPH!”

  “You don’t love me? Oh Gina.” He inched out. “I guess that means—”

  “I said I love you!” she screeched as the sock popped out, bouncing off his face. “What do you think I said, you bloody bastard! Now get that cock back in me! I’m almost ready to—”

  Then she did, voluminously and exquisitely, like water flowing down a mountain, like a long undulation of waves crashing against the shore.

  “You’re mine, you hear me?” he said, fucking the climax right out of her. “This pussy will never see another cock besides mine, or so help me, Gina, I’ll…” And then he came too, filling her, overflowing. Almost as abruptly, he pulled out.

  “Where are you going—Doug?”

  But he was already yanking his jeans on, stepping into his shoes, gearing up. After he put on his jacket he u
nlocked one of the cuffs.

  “Thank God,” she said, rubbing her wrist as she sat up. “Now get the other one. We have to get out of here.”

  Doug laid a key on the table on the other side of the room. “Here’s the key in case there’s a fire.” He switched his phone for her BlackBerry, laying it on the table beside the bed. “Here’s my cell. Don’t bother with the contacts. All you’ll get is a bunch of cops, squeals and a lot of women with names like Destiny and Desire.” He shoved the other pair of cuffs half into the back of his jeans. “And your own number, of course. But don’t use it because I won’t be answering.”

  “Don’t do this, Doug. Don’t leave me here.”

  He went to her, kissing her thoroughly. “She loves me. She loves me!” He grinned. “Ain’t life grand.” Then bolted for the door.

  “Doug!” The door slammed below. She huffed, jangling the cuff. “Ten minutes!” she yelled. “Ten minutes, tops, and I’m out of here!”

  * * * * *

  11:01 A.M.

  “Jack?”

  “Doug? Is that you? Where’s Gina?”

  “She’s kinda tied up at the moment, so I’m on my way up without her. Do me a favor. Don’t let Ted Parks out of your sight.”

  Silence, then, “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  “You’re psychic, Jack.”

  “I had a feeling. Precisely why his vetting isn’t over yet.”

  “Is that why Lee Roland was in Philly the other night?”

  “To slow the process down. You catch on quick, Welland. Maybe you should go into politics.”

  “I’d cause too many scandals. And Jack?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep your head down. I’m coming in after him.”

  He tossed the BlackBerry to the seat. “She loves me. She loves me!” He switched lanes, grinning all the way through.

  Chapter Twelve

  COUNTY COURTHOUSE—RIVERBORO

  SUNDAY 3 NOVEMBER

  11:45 A.M.

  Jesus, Doug thought, moving through the throngs of people gathered at the courthouse steps. I didn’t know this many people gave a shit.