by KT Morrison
“How are you?” he asked her. He meant it too. He missed her. He wanted to know that she was all right.
She chuckled a little making him feel stupid for his question. Like he was familiar with her. Her friend. But wasn't he? He did care for her.
He tried, “I’ve missed you.”
“Have you?” she asked him.
“I think about you all the time.”
“You do, do you?” she said.
“I do,” he said.
“Do you think about raping me? About making me jerk off for you? Do you think about destroying my husband with your video? The night you humiliated me?”
He wanted to come clean, lay it all on the table. He wouldn't betray Mitch. He couldn't do that. He needed that money. Didn't need trouble from him. And there was a chance that this was another opportunity standing here in his kitchen in size five leather boots. He put his hand on her. He touched her neck and he touched her cheek.
“I think a lot about the things I shouldn’t have done to you. I think I ruined a good thing. I wanted all those things, I did. I can't lie about that. I loved watching you touch yourself and I loved what we did to you that afternoon in the apartment. I know you wanted it too. I know it.”
She didn't answer but he could see her jaw moving under the black frames of her glasses. She was so beautiful. He meant everything he was saying. He did have regrets but he loved those dirty moments he’d had with Kate. He loved them because he knew she loved them. She might have thought she was doing it to stop Omar from releasing that dirty video but he could tell she was getting something from it for herself. Getting off on it. Like his blackmail gave her a chance to be the dirty whore she wanted to be.
“I regret making the video. I regret doing that to you. I just didn't want you to go. To not be in my life any more. I'm not the kind of guy who blackmails people. Blackmails them for money. I'm really not like that. I don't have the video, I swear it. I haven't had it this whole time. It was gone the day after I showed it to you in the bathroom in Cayman.”
She tilted her head to him. She was studying him from behind those black lenses. He ran a thumb over her cheek. Her skin was so soft under his rough touch.
He could feel all the things he admired about her come rushing over him suddenly. He truly did feel for her. And seeing her standing in front of him in his own kitchen, in his life in France, he felt something more. He might love her.
“Kate, please listen. I know I did terrible things but I didn't do them for the reasons you're thinking. I can't even explain why I did it. My emotions are so complicated. More complicated for me to even understand. But please you have to know one thing: I would never have released that video. Never in a million years would I do that to you. I never once even considered it. You were never in danger. Everything I did was for the contact we had. The dirty things we did. That was what I wanted. The whole time it was all about you.”
She inhaled very deeply. She seemed troubled. Wasn't she relieved? That was what he wanted. To relieve her of all the badness he'd caused. He put his other hand on her shoulder. He moved closer but she wouldn't embrace him. She kept her hands deep in her pockets. He pulled her closer to him and she let him. He put his arms around her but it was like she wasn't even there.
She shrugged him off.
“I am sorry,” he said, and he meant it.
She could kill him right now. She could let him embrace her and he would never see it coming. She could ask him to take his cock out and then cut it off before he could stop her. She wouldn’t do any of those things. Whatever she thought had drawn her to this shitty little town in the south of France she’d come to understand that it wasn’t to harm Omar. Sitting out front of his apartment watching him with those two young girls, staggering in, up late, then limping out, she had to face herself. Confront this craziness. He was a human being, not some villain. She couldn’t kill him. She wasn’t crazy. Not that crazy.
She came for a confrontation. Could it escalate? Could she still be driven to take the knife from her pocket and slash it across his neck? She could.
The things he said to her—it was more than she could have hoped. She pictured him arrogant when she fantasized about this moment. This masculine force with folded arms laughing at her. His strong body and his big hands, that beard that grew the moment he put the razor down, that incredible proof of manhood between his legs; he would dismiss her, be rough with her, she was dirt to him.
She couldn’t have hoped for this. An apology. It was heartfelt. She hadn’t anticipated it. How could this be the same man that filmed himself fucking her and doing disgusting things to her so he could blackmail her? He tricked her into saying awful things about her husband’s small penis. He shoved her in the bathroom in Cayman. He and his friend had both penetrated her at the same time. Made her do it.
Yet she believed him. Believed what he had just told her. He did it because he was crazy. She could relate to that. They were both the same in many ways.
He did it because he wanted her in his life.
She took her sunglasses off and put them on the counter. She wanted him to see her face. See the face of the person he’d ruined. He looked in her eyes and she felt for him. He was serious. There was a passion between them. They were both terrible people weren’t they? They shared a badness.
He stepped into her and she was trapped against the counter. His eyes were a piercing blue in the light from the front windows. He was handsome and so masculine. She touched her forehead to his chest. His arms went around her and it felt so good. She felt enormous relief. It was over. Truly over. All that she had suffered felt like it lifted from her and floated to the ceiling. Her eyes rimmed with tears. She was so happy.
He lifted her chin with a bent finger and he kissed her. How could she let him, she hated him? She kissed him back and she sucked his tongue into her mouth. Her arms went around his waist and she pulled them closer together.
She felt a hunger between her legs. A desire to be fed. She felt it start in her sex and she welcomed it as it rushed through her. She’d missed that dark feeling. Only, she realized it wasn’t so dark this time. Somehow this felt honest. It felt right. She melted into his arms, felt the strength of his large hands, the power his grip had over her flesh. She hadn’t had a thing between her legs, up inside her, in a month. She ached for it. She ached for Omar. Not to be taken roughly. Not to be humiliated in front of her husband. She wanted him to make love to her. She wanted to run her hands over his back as he entered her. She wanted to kiss him and look him in the eye when he put himself inside her.
She pulled herself up him. Put her arms around his neck and she wrapped her thighs around his waist. He walked her out of the kitchen like that, their mouths fused together, she was lost in it. He laid her on her back. She was in his bedroom, laying under him as he looked down at her.
“I’ve thought about this a thousand times,” he said. “I can’t believe you’re here with me.” He took his t-shirt off and put his mouth back over hers. She couldn’t believe she was here with him either. She ran her hands all over him. She felt his muscle, his strong body. His hands worked her trench coat open. She ran her hands to his front, ran them over his tight stomach. He had lost weight and he felt like magic under her fingertips. She slid her hands under the waist of his jeans felt the heat of his body there. She wanted him released, she wanted to feel that thing she loved again. His beard scratched at her soft skin as he kissed down her neck and between her breasts. He unhooked the clasp of the front closure and her breasts heaved out. His mouth went over each of them and her nipples clenched tight and erect. She unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them. His cock and his balls spilled out and she hefted them and squeezed it while he kissed at her chest. She felt his hands moving up her legs and lifting her skirt, moving under her panties. She arched her back and he pulled them down.
She could smell his cock. She smelled those other girl’s pussies from it. She smelled condoms and dried semen. He hadn’
t showered after fucking all night. She was laying in the dirtied bed where he’d fucked those two little sluts and she didn’t care. She just wanted him right now. He was hard in her hand. She missed his size. The biggest most beautiful cock she’d ever seen. She slid herself up the bed and guided him between her legs. His mouth came up and went over hers again and he pushed himself inside her. She gasped into his mouth. It hurt again. It was like starting all over. He was very gentle with her. They kissed and felt each other and their movement eased him inside her.
They made love slow and quietly. The only sound in the room was the soft wet squishing of her sex being parted. It felt incredible to be filled up again. Soon she had him coated with her wetness and he was almost all the way inside her.
She wrapped her legs around him and scratched at his back. She wanted more. She wanted him deeper, she wanted him faster, and she wanted him harder. He gave it to her. Gave it the way she wanted, giving her almost every thick inch until she felt it coming. She told him.
She said, “You’re going to make me come, don’t stop.”
He thrust harder and deeper and he sent her over the top, she cried out as it washed over her and she clawed at his back. She felt him inside her, his huge thing flexing and throbbing. Then he came inside her deep and strong. She felt him going off, splashing her insides with his seed.
“Ah, Omar, I love when you come inside me,” she whispered to him. It made him groan as he buckled and he was still coming. He put a hand around her neck and looked in her eyes. She could feel how wet she was from his seed, she could feel it still surging from him. His handsome face was clenched and he was trembling. His strong arms felt so good under her fingers and she held them tightly while she watched his face as he came. Finally he was done, empty, and he lowered himself to her. He kissed her neck and she closed her eyes and exposed it to him, let him kiss and bite her.
“I’ve dreamed you would come to me. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I can’t believe I’m here either,” she said. She bit her lip as they stared into one another. Her chin trembled. What was she doing here?
Then he was Omar again. The Omar she expected. He slid his cock out of her, said, “We know why you’re here.”
She quivered under him, she felt so small below him. He was a man. A man how she dreamed. Masculine, confident, arrogant. He kissed down her chest, between her breasts and across her soft belly. His hands ran down her thighs and over her knees. He gripped her small ankles tightly and pushed her knees up to her shoulders, her mound exposed to him. He thrust his face between her legs and she felt his wide tongue spread her folds. He ran it back down between her cheeks. She gasped.
She let him do it. She wished he saw her as more than this, more than a dirty fuck. His tongue slipped past her anus, she felt it warm and wet slipping inside her. Twelve hours on the road, sitting in her car overnight, eating shitty food and drinking shitty coffee, and she didn’t care that he’d buried his face inside her. She loved it, felt herself on the edge again—she could come from this horrible act. She did, her jaw unlocked, her mouth open, grinding her hole into his tongue, her pussy completely untouched. She cried out and clenched her eyes wishing she could just be like everyone else.
Kiley watched the traffic on Hyde Park through her apartment window. She wanted to take all her things, everything she owned, and hurl it out and down thirty flights to the street below. Her laptop, her wardrobe, every knick-knack her mom had mailed her since she moved to Chicago. Watch it all explode on the asphalt, one item after another. Then what would she do? Go somewhere else. Be someone else.
She had no family here, no friends. No one. All she had was work. But she’d fucked that up hadn’t she?
She’d misread that one. She wasn’t even attracted to Jay. She had no idea why she would do what she did. Jay meant something to her, that part was true. And from there her feelings got very confused. This was trouble. She somehow made her drunken hot tub escapade worse. She hadn’t even been drinking. She wondered if she was a fuck up. She was good at her job, up until last night at least. She was earnest, she meant well. She thought she was smart but maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she wasn’t at all how she saw herself.
Everyone told her she was beautiful but she wasn’t in a relationship. Hadn’t been in one since she’d come to Chicago. And before that there was nothing to mention. Nothing that meant anything to her. And it was obvious she meant nothing to other people. She was just a pretty face that men fell over themselves to fuck—then they moved on. There was something wrong with her.
She sat down in her leather chair in front of her laptop and she started to cry. Once it came there was no stopping it. She let it happen, let it cleanse her. She grabbed the leg of the table and squeezed it. She wondered if she’d be strong enough to lift it up and get it out the window if she really, truly lost it.
There was a knock at the door.
Shit, she thought. Ten in the morning on a Sunday, who would call on her? She got up and made her way to the door. She dried her face on the inside of her sweatshirt then looked through the peephole. A delivery. No one had called up. There was a young man outside and he was holding an arrangement of flowers. He knocked again. She was in some sweats and her bare feet, but she opened the door anyway.
“Delivery, ma’am. Flowers for Kiley Beckett,” he said. He was a shy kid, not much younger than she was though.
Her phone rang behind her, she heard it vibrate on the glass top of her desk. She thanked him and signed for it. She gave him ten bucks from a dish she kept by the door for when she ordered food in. She locked the door and put the arrangement on her desk and picked up her phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Kiley, it’s Mitch.”
“Mitch, my God, I’m so happy to hear your voice right now.”
“Really? What is it? Is everything all right?” He sounded worried.
“No really, Mitch. Just—it’s good to hear from a friend. It’s been…it’s been a rough night.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, hold on,” she took the card from the arrangement. It was in a pale creamy envelope. It was a beautiful bouquet. Daisies, chrysanthemums, carnations, and more, beautifully done in a hand turned wooden vase. She read the card, No hard feelings? -Jay.
What the fuck did that mean?
“Sorry, Mitch, I just need a minute…”
“Kiley, really quick, have you heard from Kate?”
“Hold on,” she said and she sat down. No hard feelings. Was hard a play on words? Like he didn’t have ‘hard’ feelings for her? Or was it straightforward? Who writes No hard feelings after yelling at a girl for giving them a handjob? Was he mad?
“Kiley?”
“Sorry, Mitch, just got some strange news.”
“Kiley, have you heard from Kate at all?”
“Not for a while now. Maybe two weeks ago. Wait, I texted with her last week.” At least Jay had made contact right?
“No, I was wondering if you’d heard from her today. Or yesterday.”
“No, love. No. What’s wrong?”
“She’s missing.”
“How’d you mean?”
“Like she’s walked out on me. She hasn’t told me where she’s gone. I woke up and she wasn’t there.”
“Were you fighting?”
“We don’t fight.”
“Why would she do it do you think?”
“I don’t know. Or maybe I do, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”
She read the note again, flipped it over to see if there might be something on the other side. How did he have her home address? Why not just send them to her office tomorrow when she was at work? Of course, he wouldn’t want anyone there to see that he’d sent them. “She’ll turn up. That’s Kate. She can just do things like that.”
“Not to me, Kiley.”
“Really Mitch?”
“Not like this.”
“Just because she’s never done something li
ke this to you before doesn’t mean she’s not the kind to do it. I love her but she can sometimes only think of herself.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“How’s your work? Everything work out alright with the—”
“No, not at all as it turns out. Just found out last night, and I’ve made it worse.”
“Oh, dear. What happened?”
“I think we both have things we don’t want to talk about right now.”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s talk about better things.”
“Agreed. I wish there were better things right now. Kiley, is there anything I can do to help you?”
“No.”
“If you ever need a thing—I mean anything—you have to call me, right? Any thing, any time, I’d love to hear from you.”
“Thank you, Mitch. Just stay on the line with me a while.”
They both lay naked in his bed, under the duvet. Kate was sleeping next to him, laying on her belly. He watched her sleep, laying beside her with his hands behind his head.
She must have been out there all night. Sitting in the Range Rover watching him come and go. He wasted his time fucking those two backpackers when he could have been with this little demon. Someone he cared for. He wondered if she’d watched them. Could she have gone to the windows, stood there in the dark watching him fuck those girls? She could have. She probably got off on it too.
His phone chirped its frog sound. He reached down to his pants bunched on the floor and took it out from his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number. Kate stirred as he answered, she turned to him and put her warm arm over his belly.
“Allo?”
“Omar?”
“Oui.”
“Omar, it’s Mitch.”