Zane 2 (Pleasure Extraordinaire: Part 2)

by Liv Bennett

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” She covers the back of my hand seemingly without thought, her move taking me off-guard since she’s always avoided physical contact with me or anyone else.

  Her fingers are thin and long, her skin soft, warm and pleasurable to touch. Shifting my arm, I take her hand in mine, feeling moved by her friendly gesture. “Thank you.”

  “I feel like the whole thing happened because of me.” As her expression becomes apologetic, her eyes cast away.

  I scan over the curves of her breasts straining against the plain gray dress that’s hugging her tightly. Her calves and arms are bare and slightly tanned, the dark creamy tone making me wonder if her skin hiding beneath the dress has been exposed to sunlight, too.

  “How can you think that? Last time I checked, it was me who had sex with random strangers and left a condom full of my load with them.” Not wanting to release her just yet, I squeeze her hand and pull her toward me. My mind barely acknowledges the fact that we’ve been holding hands for an unusually long time.

  “That’s not what I meant.” Smiling, she then peeks up at me. “If I hadn’t forced you to get engaged in the first place…”

  “Ahh, that has nothing to do with what I have to deal with now. You were trying to help me in your own way.” I breathe in and let out the air rather loudly. “The whole thing isn’t too bad actually. I’ll have a child with or without Scarlet, and although its mother could have been a lot better, Theresa seems to be agreeable enough.”

  “Yeah, well. She’s not a complete maniac, at least,” she says with a lighthearted laugh.

  I snort at her joke. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Her eyes suddenly fall on our entwined hands and grow wide with surprise, as if she’s just realized we’ve been holding hands. The earlier blush I gave her with the decadent details of my make-out with Scarlet returns to her cheeks. Her lips part with a sudden intake of air. “You must be exhausted with all this relationship talk. How about I fix you a dinner?” She gets up, lets my hand go, and hurries to the kitchen.

  I stare after her, studying the sway of her pronounced hips as she walks away. Without her blazer on, the curves of her slim body are generously showcased beneath the tight gray dress she’s wearing. I should put a ban on blazers at the office so I can enjoy the beautiful sight of her body more often. In fact, I should introduce Nude Fridays to see her fully naked.

  My cock twitches with the image of Julie walking into my office completely naked save for high heels and a black garter belt holding up her black stockings…her hair covering most of her chest, but her big breasts bouncing up and down, her nipples puckered and poking through the thick strands of her hair, her pussy leaking with the evidence of her arousal.

  I shake my head and grin at myself. Just one hour after my discussion with Scarlet to end our relationship, I’m already getting hard with fantasies of another woman’s naked body.

  This is the real me…the Zane who loves women way too much.

  Promiscuity is engrained in my DNA. I can’t change it for Scarlet or any other woman for that matter. Splitting up is going to be better for Scarlet in the long run. It will spare her the disappointment she’ll live through sooner or later when she finds me enjoying other women sexually.

  Julie is a friend. A very tolerant one. I know I shouldn’t take advantage of her good heart. But the unexpected turn of events with Scarlet and the alcohol in my blood is turning my naughty side on, and I follow Julie into her kitchen. The area inside is small and gives me a sizable opportunity to corner Julie, not that I’d harass her sexually, but to play with her nerves.

  “Did you date other men after Nick?” I ask, enjoying the sight of the crease of her brow at my question, perhaps a little too much.

  “No!” she answers curtly and her eyes size me up and down.

  “Why so angry? You know everything about me, and I know only…well basically nothing about you.”

  She rolls her eyes and opens the fridge. “There’s not much to say about me.”

  I stare at her expectantly and when she doesn’t continue talking, I explode with a loud, “Come on! Give me something to work with here.”

  “You know the deal with Nick. He was great, but I couldn’t open up to him physically. I figured, if I couldn’t do it with Nick, who’s probably the most patient guy out there, I won’t be able to do it with anyone.”

  “That’s bullshit.” I shake my head and take a step closer to her. “You’re not telling me you’re going to become a nun, because that would be a waste of this fantastic body.”

  Her body freezes as a response to my statement and I see her eyes going distant. “What do you suggest that I do? Perhaps I should pay thousands of dollars to a Pleasure Extraordinaire gigolo to awaken my sexuality?” She picks up a bag with lettuce, tomato, and cucumber and places them in the sink.

  I laugh, although the idea of one of my ex-colleagues humping my beloved friend is rather disturbing. “That’s better than not enjoying any sexual intimacy with a man. You’re young and beautiful. You shouldn’t let your fears ruin a beautiful experience. You shouldn’t let those men who harassed you in the past continue abusing your present and future, too.”

  Her hands rest on the counter top and her head falls down, her chin touching her chest. I can’t say I like the sadness crossing her face. I guess my well-intentioned comment has hit a sensitive nerve.

  My feet move toward her, my hands reaching for her arms. I rest my hands on her shoulders although I know for a fact she doesn’t approve of any physical contact. She doesn’t flinch or yank away from my hold as I expected. Instead, she turns around and buries her face into my chest.

  “I can’t leave the past behind,” she admits softly when I hug her.

  Her sadness moves something inside me. I feel there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman who’s dedicated her life to my happiness. “You’ve always been a stubborn piece of ass,” I joke to lighten her mood, and to my delight, she slaps my chest and gives me a contented chuckle.

  Bowing my head, I slide a finger under her chin to tilt her head up. “Have you ever had consensual sex with a man you liked?”

  Her eyes flash with sadness when she shakes her head no. She’s twenty-nine and has so much to give, but has never fulfilled that one basic need that most take for granted, and others pay thousands of dollars for. Whereas the sex industry is a billion dollar business with lingerie lines, adult movies, sex toys, and whatnot, my sweet Julie is carefully avoiding the pleasure of all pleasures?

  “I’m a lost cause, aren’t I?” she asks sweetly.

  I shrug, not wanting to push her deeper into her misery. “Perhaps you haven’t met a man who’ll turn you on enough that you’ll forget about your fears yet. I don’t think Nick had any sexual skills. To be honest, he might even be gay.”

  She snorts and makes tsk sounds as she moves away from me. Her mood is lighter when she starts washing the vegetables in the sink. I help her with peeling and chopping the cucumbers.

  The ringing of her phone interrupts us just when she adds olive oil and lemon to the salad. She wipes her hands on the kitchen towel before she picks up her phone. Her brows pull together in a sign of discontentment while she reads the text on the screen of her phone.

  “Theresa is going out.” She looks at me, then down at her phone. “Where could she be going at this hour?”

  I glance at my watch to see it’s past nine-thirty. We haven’t set up any house rules for her; she’s a free woman, but she’s also thirty-six weeks pregnant and has a housemaid serving her needs 24/7. “How do you know she’s going out?”

  “I’m having her followed,” Julie says and adds, “for her safety.”

  “Does your guy know where she’s heading to?”

  “He’s following the taxi she took. He’ll let me know when he arrives.” Rather than continuing the salad, she grabs her blazer out of the closet by the door, slides into it, and tucks her purse beneath her arm.


  My eyes drift between the delicious-looking salad and her. “So, what? Are we not eating?”

  “Nope. Let’s play a quick detective game.” She comes back to the kitchen to place the salad in the fridge.

  “Come on! She must be out to get some air,” I protest, so does my stomach with an embarrassingly loud growl. I should have had dinner when Theresa offered. In fact, I should have stayed with her when she complained about being lonely. Then, neither the argument with Scarlet would have taken place, nor Theresa’s unannounced trip for a quick breath of fresh of air.

  “Not just some air. Last night, Carl spotted her in a club, talking to some guy working for Roy Esther.”

  “Should I know who Roy Esther is?” I ask.

  “He’s an up and coming drug dealer.”

  “Theresa probably wouldn’t know that tiny detail about the guy. She must have been horny or something. Haven’t you heard about pregnancy hormones boosting sexuality?”

  She laughs and slaps my arm. “Just because she might be carrying your child, she’s not above any criminal activity. Let’s see what she’s up to without declaring her the angel of the year.” She hurries toward the door and opens it for me, signaling out with her head. “Are you coming?”

  CH 13 - The Loss

  ~

  “She went in half an hour ago with the same guy from last night. Here, take a look at these.” Carl, Julie’s PI, gives his phone to Julie, holds a cigarette between his lips, and inhales. He has longish black hair tucked behind his ears and looks like a member of a motorcycle club with his worn-out black leather jacket and pants. “I asked around about her and found out some juicy information.”

  “Uh-huh. Such as?” Julie swipes her thumb through the photos on Carl’s phone and shows me one with Theresa entering the club, named Devil’s Cave.

  I nod and scan the empty streets cautiously. The street lights seem to have taken a hike in this God-forsaken part of L.A. I guess I’ve never been to this part of town, although I’m not exactly sure where we are, save for the fact that it must be somewhere south. I don’t even know if we’re still in the city limits, but I’m glad Daney carries a gun as a requirement of his duties for unexpected times like this one.

  “Such as…” Carl throws the cigarette butt into the air, obviously without caring about keeping the streets clean. “She checked into a rehab for drug addiction two years ago under a different name.”

  Theresa is only nineteen. That means she was seventeen, practically a kid, when she looked for help for her addiction. It’s sad how some people end up in shit so early in their lives.

  I can’t help but feel pity for her, while Julie screams, “I knew it. I knew she was into drugs, that little slut.” Her eyes bright with thrill, she turns to me. “We can use this to our advantage. If she’s using drugs now too, you can get full custody of the baby. That way, you won’t have to deal with Theresa ever again.”

  “I don’t think she’s taking drugs while pregnant.” I find myself defending Theresa, despite the very little information I know about her. “She wouldn’t endanger the baby’s life. Remember how she insisted on us staying longer during our visit? She probably felt lonely afterward and wanted to meet up with some friends. That’s all.”

  “Zane, don’t tell me you’re developing feelings for her,” Julie snaps, the crease between her eyebrows highlighting her dismay. “She’s manipulating you. Don’t fall into her trap just because she might be carrying your baby.”

  “You’re right, but still. I don’t think she’s into drugs. She knows how important the baby’s health is. She wouldn’t risk it.”

  “Maybe not drugs, but if she has a history with alcohol…” Julie holds her chin between her fingers, her eyes focused on something far away, while her mind clearly calculates the best way to take advantage of the situation. “She’d be tempted to drink a little. If we can record her while she’s consuming alcohol, we can use it in court against her.” She stares at me in anticipation of my opinion regarding her idea.

  “Hmmm.” Her idea isn’t bad and will potentially get me back the reins in this crazy mess.

  “We can record her drinking with my phone and get a sample of her drink to prove it contains alcohol. I can easily get a judge to deny her all parental rights. You’ll be able to obtain sole custody of the baby. If she is indeed drinking, especially this late in the pregnancy, it’ll pose the distinct possibility that she has been drinking during the entire pregnancy. And, it’s dangerous to the baby. Have you ever heard of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome?” She pauses, perhaps seeing my hesitation to go with her plan. “She’s not mother material; you know that. She just wants the money and the power that comes with the child. You’ll spare the kid a lot of heartaches if you keep Theresa out of its life. You, yourself, had an abusive parent. Think about it. The baby will be better off without Theresa.”

  “You’re right. She won’t make a great mother,” I agree with her wholeheartedly. “But, she’s a kid herself. We don’t know much about her past or her personality because we didn’t give her a chance to open up to us.”

  “We know enough to decide she’s an opportunist. She knocked herself up from a left-over condom. She conceived that child without your consent. That’s a clear sign she’s after money and power. That’s not motherly. That’s destructive. You know it better than everyone else; some people aren’t meant to be parents. And she’s one of them.” She holds her hand up in the air toward me. “Come on. Let’s go in and end this charade.”

  Images of a possible future where my kid is being used and abused flood my mind. The sad part is, the scenario isn’t an unlikely one. As sad as I feel for Theresa and the abuse she probably went through to become who she is today, I wouldn’t be a good father if I don’t try to give my child a peaceful and happy childhood.

  “You’re right. We must find a way to keep Theresa away from the child, but not this way. We don’t need to cause her to be convicted on drug or alcohol charges. We’re better than that.”

  Julie throws her hands in the air in frustration. “Well, then, what are we going to do? We need to do something right now.”

  “Yes, we do. We need to stop her before she drinks alcohol or takes drugs and causes potential danger to the baby.” I stride toward the road and cross the empty street, seeing Julie and Carl trailing behind me, from the corner of my eye.

  The bouncer at the door doesn’t bother to check my ID and lets me into the dark and overly packed room.

  The thick smell of urine and sweat fills my nose, while I study the filthy looking customers over-filling the small space. Save for half a dozen older women, who judging by their heavy makeup and revealing clothes are highly likely to be prostitutes, this club is for men, only.

  A few heads turn to my direction. After a few stinky-eyes and slow once-overs, the customers go back to nursing their drinks or whatever they’re consuming.

  How Theresa can fit in here and have friends who frequent this locale is beyond me. Then again, she had sex with me on a whim. She must be a really disturbed child, and I feel worse for taking advantage of her sexually.

  I keep looking as I walk through the ocean of people. Theresa shouldn’t be hard to spot with her cleaner and younger look, not to mention her hard-to-miss belly.

  I hear Julie asking Carl, “Are you sure you saw her come in here?” I glance over my shoulder to see Carl nodding.

  Julie coughs. “How could this place pass the health inspection to get a business license? I’m going to puke.”

  “I’ve seen worse,” Carl claims.

  “Ask the bartender if he saw Theresa,” I order, trying to breathe as little as possible in order to expose myself to fewer germs.

  Carl moves over to the bar and shows the bartender his phone, which I assume, has Theresa’s picture on the screen. The bartender points with his index finger toward the back of the bar.

  Carl slips his phone into the pocket of his jacket and walks back to me. “He said he saw her goi
ng to the bathroom in back.”

  I nod, then motion with my head toward the bathrooms, with an uncomfortable feeling constricting my chest. I whirl on my feet, anger setting off wild fires inside me. Theresa is a single woman and free to fuck anyone her heart desires, but imagining her exposing her vagina not only to the filth in the bathroom but also to a penis swimming in STDs is enough to turn my stomach. The profound smell of urine and puke wafting from the bathroom, even with its door closed, augments my disgust.

  “I’ll go in,” Julie offers once we stop by the ladies room. Barely two seconds pass before she screams, “Call 9-1-1!”

  Punching the door open, I jump in and spot Julie.

  She’s kneeling on the dirty floor and holding a lifeless body on her lap. “Theresa, wake up!”

  I stoop down without a thought, my limbs both tense and alert. I grab Theresa’s arm and shake it.

  Julie looks up at me with wide, fearful eyes, her voice panicked when she says, “I can’t find her heartbeat.” Her fright switches on a button inside me, and I gather Theresa in my arms and scoop her up off the floor. “Call 9-1-1,” I yell at Carl and carry Theresa out. Her head moves lifelessly in my arms, her eyes closed, her skin pale.

  People make way for us, some murmuring among themselves, others screaming, as I walk the narrow trail toward the exit.

  It takes thirteen minutes for the paramedics to arrive. Thirteen minutes, while wondering if I’m holding a dead corpse or a live person in my arms. Thirteen minutes wondering if my child will make it. Thirteen minutes that make me hate myself for not wanting to stay with her a little longer when she’d asked me to.

  The paramedics cover her mouth with oxygen masks and hustle her into the truck, while pressing defibrillator pads onto her chest. I can’t look at her weak body shaking violently under the electric charges. I can’t bear the feeling of guilt eating me alive, for having loathed her, not having given her a chance to show her good side to me.