Satan's Breath

by Temple Madison

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Now, Blaze. Get out. I don’t know what I might do.”

  Blaze laughed nervously at his ridiculous suggestion. “Erik, you’re kidding of course. Surely…” Her words faded when she saw him begin a slow turn until he was again looking at her. It was that look. She’d seen it many times in other eyes. It made her feel naked, vulnerable, weak, like she had as a child.

  Erik stepped closer and closer to her, bringing back the haunting memory of the creaks in the weak floorboards as he put one foot in front of the other. Suddenly, she was in the small room with a tattered curtain for a door. When Blaze saw the curtain move, she very cautiously turned and ran for the door, but he grabbed her and brutally pulled her to him.

  Looking down at her with heated eyes, he rasped, “Why in hell didn’t you go when I told you to?” Suddenly, he gathered her in his arms roughly, covering her lips with his in a bruising kiss.

  She struggled, crying as he tore at her clothes. “Erik, please, your hurting me!” She managed to get away from him and ran to the door, pressing the back of her hand to her bruised mouth while trying to hold her blouse together. “You’re just like all the rest,” she sobbed as the tears began to flow. “I thought you were different, but you’re not. All you think about is your filthy appetite.”

  Erik couldn’t look at her, but turned away and spoke in a soft rasp. “I’m sorry, Blaze, I…I don’t know what got into me.” His voice suddenly became a weak whimper. “God, can’t you see you’re driving me crazy?”

  She was crying hard as she flung the door open, and then turned to him. “You dirty, rotten bastard! I never want to see you again!”

  The tears were coming fast and furious as she ran along the path by the building and into the double doors of the station. Once inside, she ducked into the ladies room and looked critically at her red eyes. She splashed her face several times, then fumbled with her gaping blouse, pulling it together.

  Finally, she leaned against the sink trying to get control of her feelings, but with time ticking away, she didn’t have time to indulge in a crying binge.

  Moving quickly, she opened the door and walked down the short hall. Putting on a false, exaggerated smile, she faced the night crew looking beautiful as usual.

  That night, the sultry voice of Savannah’s Queen of Steam purred across the city while the whole population tuned in to hear the highly publicized Blaze Alexander as she cooed out innuendoes, suggestive banter, and jokes that had the whole town rollicking with X-rated laughter.

  By the time her show was over, she had once again burned up the airwaves with her style of entertainment. Her voice was a cuddle for a lonely man, a soft kiss for a pair of lips in a cold hotel room, and a soothing voice that crooned some to sleep with dreams of love. Yes, with her voice, she put sparks in a lonely night, and brought lovers together while her arms were still empty—and her heart breaking.

  * * * *

  Blaze threw herself into her work, and the chances she took on the air were nothing next to the sexy banter that came out of her mouth now. No one else but she knew she was nursing a broken heart, and a lot of anger was mixed in with her sexy banter.

  She dared them to shut her up!

  She had not only become a local celebrity, but the whole country had fallen in love with her tiger-by-the-tail attitude. It forced her out of her shadowed existence and she became known as the hottest late-night talk show queen in the country. Savannah’s population was thrilled to at last see what Blaze looked like, and crowded in close to their TV sets to get a look at her. She tried to keep her face out of the news as much as possible for the sake of privacy, but even so, it seemed that nothing could be kept from the press.

  They managed to find her, follow her around, firing question after question about her feelings regarding the threat that had been made on her life. Everyone watched the seductive redhead at last instead of only hearing her voice on late night radio.

  Blaze had to admit she liked the attention, so boldly grabbing the microphone from a reporter, she spoke to the news media that surrounded her, and became as reckless on TV as on the radio. “Barry Schorr is a lot of talk and that’s all. If he wants me, let him come and get me. I’m not afraid of him, or any man.”

  “Ms. Alexander, you’re taking a chance, aren’t you? I mean, if you make him mad enough, he might break out and come after you.”

  “Yeah, he might. He might also run for president!”

  “Ms. Alexander, whatever got you started in this particular field? Where did you ever get the idea for the kind of show you do?”

  “If you want the story of my life, handsome, watch the bookstands. It’ll be out in about fifty years.” She looked at the camera and winked. “I won’t be through livin’ ‘til then.”

  “My name is Cory,” the reporter said with a bashful smile.

  “Tell you what, Cory, listen to my show tonight. She looked up at him seductively, and chucked his chin. “I’ll have a surprise for you.”

  * * * *

  That night, Blaze did a whole hour of sexy banter, talking only to Cory. This began an onslaught of fan mail from men who wanted her to say their names on the air during her famous radio foreplay.

  “My God, Blaze, what have you started? We’re going to have to hire extra people just to sort through your mail.” Greg looked down at the postcards with scorching notes on the back, along with the man’s name, and his request to have her make love to him on the air. “There must be mail here from every man in Savannah.”

  “What’s the problem?” Blaze said as she munched on a carrot stick. “Just sort them according to earliest post date, and I’ll do first come, first served.” She looked at their frowning faces, pretending not to see their dilemma. “Hey, fellas, don’t worry, I’ll get to all of them.” She pointed the carrot stick in their faces. “I want four names a night. An hour for each name.” She looked from one to the other. “Okay?”

  Greg and Wade looked at each other helplessly, realizing they had suddenly become the office boys of the great Blaze Alexander. As their gazes met, Greg’s was saying, This is all your fault, you friggin’ bastard!

  Chomping happily on her carrot stick, Blaze smiled as she walked out of the office. She loved it when she could stick it to a man for a change.

  * * * *

  With the new radio format, the city of Savannah went crazy. Blaze Alexander’s name was on everybody’s lips. It had even been joked around town that she wore so much leather and suede, that surely her underwear must be the same. If any man was asked what his idea of the perfect woman was, he always described her with red kinky hair, tight jeans, boots, and fringes.

  Before long, all the women in Savannah suddenly became Blaze Alexander look-alikes, making it impossible to walk down the street without running into a replica of the little redhead.

  The day came when Blaze received a proposal from a prominent manufacturer to begin producing Blaze Alexander underwear. They bought the rights to use her name, and then made a deal to cut her in on a percentage of the profits. A short time later, they began distribution of the leather underwear using a licking flame as a trademark. Every time Blaze walked past a lingerie store, she saw the leather underwear in every size, shape, and color.

  If Blaze ever thought she was doing well, it was nothing compared to the sensation she was causing now. More offers than she knew what to do with were coming in. Offers from every major radio station across the nation, offers to do talk shows, both hosting and guesting, as well as several personal appearances on nighttime TV. She couldn’t believe it when she even got an offer from Playboy to do a centerfold.

  “Whew! My head is swimming!” Blaze said as she looked down at the pile of marriage proposals that had just come in the morning mail.

  “Well, enjoy it while you can,” Greg said, “because believe me, it will be short lived. The public is fickle. They love you for a while, and then before you know it, something else comes along to take their
attention and you’re yesterday’s news.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been in the business long enough to know the ropes by now.”

  Greg noticed Blaze’s darting glances at Erik, and how he seemed to purposely ignore her. If Greg knew anything, he knew that the only thing more revealing than two people looking longingly at each other, was two people fighting against it.

  Finally, Greg asked, “What the hell is going on between you and Erik?”

  Blaze stared up at Greg, trying to look innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She quickly turned before he saw the tears edging her eyes. “Well, gotta go. By the way,” she lifted the handful of letters toward him, “thanks for saving these for me.” She cast a faint smile at him, and said, “Who knows? Maybe I can find…” She turned around quickly and ran out, but not before Greg saw the tears in her eyes.

  Chapter 10

  Blaze was about to begin her show when she looked down at the group of postcards Greg had given her. Her eyes widened when she saw the first one.

  Erik.

  “Oh, God, no,” she muttered as the name suddenly became as bright as neon. If it had been the common spelling, that would be different, but it was spelled with a k. She quickly turned the card over to see the full name.

  Erik Baker.

  It didn’t sound right. It sounded phony, made up. Her gaze jumped to the postmark and saw that it had been mailed from a zip code across town. Her eyes darted around furtively. She didn’t want to look up in case someone was watching her. Who was playing this sick joke on her? And it was a joke, wasn’t it? It had to be. Erik wasn’t a common name, not really. She kept staring at it and frowning. There just couldn’t be two Erik’s in the same town.

  * * * *

  A couple of nights later when her show was about to start, Greg saw her struggling with the name on the first postcard and knew she was having a hard time with it. He quickly cut his gaze down when she finally looked up. He knew there was a reason why she left his office in tears the other day, so he had decided to test her. He drove clear across town to the farthest zip code he could find just to mail a postcard with Erik’s name on it. The last name wasn’t important, just one he grabbed out of thin air. What was important was her reaction to the first name. He was still thinking of his little joke when suddenly she stood before him.

  “I can’t use this one. The postmark is smudged. Find me one we can read.”

  Greg watched as she threw the suspicious card down on his desk, then turn to walk away. She was almost out the door when he said, “No way, Blaze. This man has already been contacted that his name was going to be on the air tonight.”

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking. This is kind of silly. Maybe we should go back to the old way of doing the show. You know, with no names.”

  “Hell no! If you quit now, you’re going to disappoint an awful lot of listeners. No telling what it might do to our ratings.”

  “Ratings?” she shouted, whirling toward him, her long, kinky hair flying around her face. “Is that all you care about?”

  Greg got up, skirted his desk, slammed his door shut, and then turned to her. “You’re damned right, lady, ratings are everything. Now I want you to come clean with me, and tell me what’s bothering you. You’ve been acting funny for days now, and I want to know why.”

  Blaze grabbed for the doorknob and pulled on it.

  Greg’s hand pushed on it, slamming it shut again. They glared at each other, their bodies almost touching. “Blaze, I want to know the truth. Are you screwing the janitor?”

  Hearing the ridiculous question, Blaze began laughing and crying uncontrollably while looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. “You son of a bitch. You wouldn’t know a janitor if he came in here and did a tap dance on your friggin’ face!”

  Greg was speechless, offering no resistance as she jerked the door open and left his office. “What in hell did she mean by that?” he muttered.

  That night, Blaze did a takeoff on the name Erik that made the other men envious. Greg was disappointed that she didn’t seem to be bothered, or that her voice hadn’t quivered once. When she was walking out, she paused in front of Greg’s office and looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and a half smile. “You pathetic small-town amateur. Don’t even consider messing with a professional!”

  “Damn!” Greg mumbled as he watched Blaze sway away from him. “Somehow that woman has just acquired another layer of ice…Brrrr!”

  * * * *

  Erik relaxed on his bed scanning the classifieds he had spread out before him. He knew the time had come to leave the station. Greg was getting worse, making his life as miserable as possible. Every chance he got, he was on his back about some stupid, unimportant little thing. He might be able to handle it, but not being able to touch Blaze drove him crazy.

  He knew she had a troubled past, but who didn’t? He just couldn’t be around her without making love to her, or at least trying to. He looked down at the prospects he had circled, and then looked at the time. He knew Greg would still be in his office, but Blaze wouldn’t be there yet, so he quickly got up. He put his loose overalls over his jeans, mussed his hair, and ran around to the station door before he began his slow shuffle. Hesitating, he walked into Greg’s office, keeping his head down, appropriately.

  Greg looked up. “What do you want, creep? Make it quick, I’ve got work to do.”

  “I w-want s-some time off.”

  Greg looked up and frowned. “Time off? Why?”

  “P-Personal.”

  Greg got up from his desk and came around it. “Personal, huh?” He sat down on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “Now what could you possibly have going on in your pathetic, stupid life that you need to attend to?”

  Erik kept his head down, his hair streaming down in his face.

  “You got yourself a girl? Is that it?”

  Erik’s gaze darted up at him, timidly.

  “What? Speak up, freak, I can’t hear you!” Greg reached out angrily and pushed him backward.

  Erik stumbled. “C-Can I h-have some t-time?”

  “Why not? The office looks just as messy when you’re here as when you’re gone, so nobody’ll know the difference anyway.”

  Erik turned to leave, but Greg jumped around in front of him and slammed his office door closed. “I’m not through with you yet, brain dead.” Greg stood there for a moment, looking at what he thought was a pathetic figure of a man, and then began slowly pacing around him.

  “What in God’s name a woman could ever see in you is beyond me.” Greg reached up and fingered Erik’s hair. “What have you got under all that stringy hair and pitiful stuttering that would make her pass me by and pick you?”

  He turned, then, and glanced critically at himself in a mirror. “Hell, I’m not bad looking.” He leaned over, straightened his tie and smoothed his hair. “I’m tall, smart, successful.” He looked back over at Erik and pointed at him emphatically. “I’m a good dancer, I’m a real good dancer.” He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “How the hell can she hate me?” He looked back at Erik as if waiting for an answer. “What in hell is wrong with the woman?”

  Erik couldn’t resist the smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips.

  “Oh, I know something’s been going on between you two, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out how, or why.” He looked closely at Erik. “Do you satisfy her? Do you have even the faintest idea of what to do with a woman?”

  Erik was silent, and to Greg this meant he didn’t comprehend.

  “Just for the record, I think she’s in love with you.”

  Erik’s eyes suddenly widened, and then darted up and looked at Greg through his stringy hair. “What?”

  Greg’s eyes narrowed with anger. “Yeah, you creep. For some reason, every time I mention your name, she gets all teary-eyed. What in hell did you do to her?”

  Hearing Greg’s words, the gloom began to lift from around Erik, a
nd because he had his mind on Blaze, he didn’t see Greg’s next move.

  “You pathetic bastard. Here’s what I think of your affair, or whatever you call it, with the lovely Blaze Alexander.”

  Suddenly, Erik felt a fist to his stomach, then to his jaw. He went down and before he knew what was happening, Greg was on top of him. He had a feeling this time Greg was out for blood. Erik suddenly had all he could take from this jerk, and knew if he was going to stay alive, he had to defend himself.

  He drew upon every ounce of strength he had and knocked Greg off him. He quickly got up, and then leaned down and grabbed Greg, pulling him up. When Greg was standing, Erik began backhanding him over and over. “You miserable son of a bitch, don’t you ever touch me again. Do you hear? If you ever come near me, I’ll make sausage out of your face and you won’t have to wonder why Blaze doesn’t want you, you’ll know!”

  “My God, you can talk!” Greg said, wiping blood from his mouth, and looking at Erik amazed.

  Erik pushed him away roughly, and then lifted his hands and combed his hair out of his eyes. He then reached down and pulled the station’s overalls off, and stood there straight and tall while Greg’s wide eyes looked at every inch of the transformed hunk that stood before him.

  “You’re damned right I can talk, and I can do a lot of other things. For one thing, creep, I could mop the floor with you any day of the week. I can also tell time, and I know what day it is. I can feed myself, tie my own shoelaces, use the telephone, and fuck a woman!”

  Greg stood there looking at Erik with his mouth hanging open as if he was the one who was retarded.

  Seeing the surprise on his face, Erik went over and shoved him down in his chair.

  “You mean, all this time you’ve been—”

  “Yeah, I have, and for your information, brain dead, Blaze and I did get together, but because she’s had a snoot full of bastards like you, she doesn’t trust men anymore, not even one that loves her.”