Aphrodisiac

by Alicia Street

  “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” rang out. Lana saw the trepidation in my eyes and quickly snatched up my cell phone. “Lana Klein here. Who’s calling, please?” Pause. “Are you in trouble? Has anyone threatened you? Hold on.” She covered the receiver with her palm and whispered, “It’s Benita’s mother. She’s all right, but sounds very agitated. Says she has an urgent message for you. From Oshun?”

  I shook my head vehemently. Inez would hear in my unsteady voice that I was concealing something, and I couldn’t bear telling her about Benita. “You take it,” I mouthed silently.

  “Saylor’s in the shower,” Lana said into the phone. “I can give her your message. Do you remember me? Yes, Saylor’s aunt.” Pause. “I’ll make sure she gets it. Yes, I promise.” After hanging up, my aunt turned to me. “Oshun?”

  “My Santeria guardian saint.”

  “I see. Well, Inez said Oshun sends a warning of extreme danger for you and your ‘sister’ and advises you to cling to the daughter.”

  The daughter. Heaven’s Daughter? Hearing this confirmed my decision to wear it tonight. I said to Lana, “I know this might sound ridiculous, but I’m going to wear Gwen’s perfume when I meet up with Curtis and his posse. I think it’s my best—and only—shot.”

  Her lips made an O. “Interesting concept, but you’ll be taking a big chance.”

  Rising out of my seat, I leaned over my aunt and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. “Aunt Lanny,” I said, resorting to my old childhood name for her, “of all the people I ever knew, you more than anyone believes in the power of woman.”

  “Without question.”

  “Then we should trust in Heaven’s Daughter.”

  Lana shifted into mother mode, found out I hadn’t eaten dinner and insisted I at least down some scrambled eggs and toast.

  I sat at the kitchen island forcing myself to eat. “Just makes me so mad. After all we went through we still don’t have anything solid linking this mysterious boss to Gwen’s murder.”

  “I almost forgot.” Lana pulled something out of her overnight bag and placed it in my hand. “You do have a tablet now.”

  In my palm sat a little brown wafer of baked clay etched with markings. I looked at her and smiled. “You cooked this up for me in your pottery kiln, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “I think it’s pretty close to the ancient tablets I saw on the Internet.”

  “As long as the person examining it can’t tell that these chicken scratches aren’t real cuneiform. Maybe it’ll buy me some time. Thanks.”

  Lana tried to keep me busy cleaning up the kitchen with her. She talked about a new client, pretending to need my advice. But I couldn’t keep up the facade. “Lana, just tell me I…”

  She grasped my hands. “Those macho jerks aren’t as clever as you, Saylor. You’ll find a way to beat them. I’m certain of it.”

  I went to my room and studied Gwen’s poem for any clue I might have missed. No revelations. Searched the net on Capricia, Schumacher, Lady Viv, Darryl, Bardarson, Alan, stolen artifacts, aphrodisiac perfumes, etc. until I was seeing cross-eyed.

  Next I examined anything I had of Gwen’s. Things Darryl sent or stuff she’d given me. Nada. I bent over my dresser staring at an old photo of Gwen and me at age fourteen. We’d gone to Macy’s for free makeovers that day, tried every perfume sampler in the joint, and revealed our secret crushes while sharing a booth in the ladies’ fitting room. Could she really be gone forever?

  Were Benita and I next? Would our lives be over by morning?

  The clock read 1:20. Confused and frightened, I rushed out to the living room where Aunt Lana was resting in a club chair. I sat on a hassock facing her. “Am I a fool not to call in the police right now? Except, if Curtis kills Binnie because of it, I’d just as soon be dead.”

  “What about tracking Benita’s cell phone?” Lana said. “And yours?”

  “The GPS coordinates. Great idea. I’m so stressed over all this crap I completely forgot about that. Except, if the cops mess up or give themselves away, Curtis will kill both of us.”

  Lana rested her hand on mine. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll make it clear to the police that we have a touchy hostage situation.”

  “Of course, great minds think alike, and that includes vicious scumbags. They’ve probably already ditched Binnie’s phone. In which case, you make the call after I leave. Give me enough time to infiltrate with my phone before they frisk me down.”

  “Maybe you could hide it in your panties.”

  “Are you serious? That’s the first place they’ll look.”

  I took a long hot shower, which made me sleepy, so I tossed on my bathrobe and downed one more cup of java.

  At 2:15 Lana joined me in my bedroom where we examined each bottle from the Tinkerbell box to choose the one I’d use tonight.

  “I think maybe this 1923 glass flacon of Femme Divine,” I said.

  Lana agreed. “How apt.”

  Of course it wasn’t Femme Divine in the bottle, but Heaven’s Daughter. I could picture Gwen filling each of these lovely bottles with her perfume and imagined her excitement knowing she’d actually deciphered Inanna’s secret formula. I doubt my cherished friend expected to lose her life for it.

  “Guess it’s time,” I said, slipping out of my robe.

  Lana pulled out the flacon stopper and helped me douse myself liberally with Gwen’s perfume, covering me with a head-to-toe application.

  Couldn’t risk carrying a bottle. The last thing I wanted was for the precious unguent to fall into the hands of Chub Dubs. Who was Chub Dubs?

  Lady Viv? Capricia? Schumacher? I thought of how I’d feel if Curtis took me to Alan. Or Darryl. Or maybe I’d never see the ruthless mastermind who was behind this dangerous gambit. Maybe they’d just kill me right away.

  Stop it! None of those thoughts allowed. I am going to get myself out of this mess alive. And Benita with me.

  Fully drenched in Heaven’s Daughter, I searched my closet. Now, what does one wear to a date with a thug? I decided on a pair of black cotton drawstring running pants with zipper pockets. I paired that with a burgundy tank tee. For once I heeded Benita’s advice and wore sneakers. Who knew if I’d be running for my life? I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and secured it with a stretchy band.

  At ten minutes to three, I tucked the homemade tablet in one pocket and my cell phone into the other. No sense inviting a full cavity search. I kissed Aunt Lana goodbye, refusing to let her even walk me to the elevator.

  The instant I hit the street, fear set in. Plus the nagging urge to whimper. What if the buildings blotted out my cell’s signal? Brooklyn’s skyline was much lower than Manhattan’s, but still dense with walls of concrete and brick. Looking out at the river to my left, I pushed back the thought that I might be floating facedown in it before dawn.

  I took a few deep breaths and began my march down Plymouth. My neighborhood’s acronym, DUMBO, down under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass, took on new meaning tonight as I headed there to confront my fate.

  At this hour the street was an empty void of ominous shadows. The only sounds were my feet tapping the cobblestones and the deafening rumble of the Q train on the lower deck of the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. Soon two figures appeared in the murky gloom. They stood waiting near the anchorage, the hundred-year-old masonry arches built to support the bridge.

  I recognized one of them as I drew closer. The hefty guy who’d cornered me on the road outside the Yoni retreat house. Tonight he was with a tall gaunt-faced partner.

  The tall, gaunt-faced one spoke first. “Over here.” He stepped into the dark space under the archway. My gut clenched. I wanted to turn and run, but thinking of Benita and seeing the gun in his hand, I had no choice but to obey.

  I stepped into the shadowy space beneath the bridge. The hefty one with the shaved head frisked me. He found Lana’s tablet and put it in his shirt pocket. Next he snatched my cell, then strolled away and dropped it down a grate in the
street. I thought at least we’d get to some building where these guys hung out.

  So much for that lame plan. I was on my own.

  I tried to keep myself from trembling when he clutched my arm and led me to a black Hummer parked nearby. The tall one slid into the driver’s seat and said, “You can check her for a wire on the way.”

  “Yeah. That’s a job I like.” He opened the car door, shoved me into the back seat and climbed in after me.

  His search wasn’t as intimate as I feared, but between my anger and the fact that I was I just plain petrified, I couldn’t to muster up any erotic feelings toward this guy. How in the world was I supposed to trigger my pheromones with slobs like this for inspiration? Why did Gwen’s perfume have to be so exquisitely designed in its workings? Why couldn’t the mixture simply start doing its thing the instant a man came near?

  Right. That way you’d get attacked from all directions by every horny guy on the sidewalk. Face it, Heaven’s Daughter was perfect in its creation. It was up to me to make it work. Talk about doing the impossible. After spending the last decade studying, guiding and teaching the techniques of arousal and seduction, I never imagined I’d have to use my sex therapy skills as a survival tool. But tonight my life and Binnie’s depended on it.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The infamous black Hummer only went a couple blocks before stopping in front of Blazing Donutz on Jay Street. Mr. Hefty opened the door and pulled me out. I looked up and down the dark street, hoping to see some people. Empty. His gun in my side prevented me from screaming. Should I risk it? Were we headed for an alley where he’d put a bullet through me anyway? Oddly enough, we went into the Blazing Donutz store. Time out for an apple fritter?

  At three a.m. the place was closed for the night, but not for us. The front-seat Hummer idiot who’d reminded me of Forest Gump unlocked the door and held it open. One fluorescent partially illuminated the store’s spanking clean yellow and black tiles. The stark imagery was reminiscent of Hopper’s Nighthawks. What were we doing here?

  Inside I was greeted by the undeniably welcome aroma of baked goods. I was also greeted by Gump-Gone-Bad, who was sporting a black eye. He brought his face close to mine. “Well, if it ain’t Dr. Sex.”

  “Where’s Benita?” I demanded. “I came here without the police and gave you the tablet. Now, you have to let both of us go. That was the deal.”

  My hefty guard cinched his fingers around my arm. “Shut up.”

  Obviously, Gwen’s perfume wasn’t working yet. What if I couldn’t pull this off? We followed Gump-Gone-Bad through a door labeled “Private,” walking into a dark kitchen and past a row of industrial ovens. A side door took us to a loading dock. On our left, a freight elevator. Thoughts like “I’ll never get out of here alive” and “Binnie may already be dead” flitted across my mind, but I did my best to ignore them.

  The two men accompanied me in the elevator to the third floor where my hefty, bald escort gave me a shove. “Straight back.”

  With the men behind me, I walked down a long bright hallway that had walls covered in happy-face decals and signs like “Start Your Day With A Smile.”

  Sure. And end it with a kidnapping.

  Peering into open rooms along the way, I saw bags marked flour and sugar, shelves holding boxes and paper goods. Crates of eggs and butter. Steel containers on the floor probably once held milk.

  Hefty unlocked a door to my right. “In here.” I glanced at a dimly lit storage room and stood my ground. He pushed me inside and sat me on a gray metal chair. After binding my hands behind my back with duct tape and sealing my ankles, he said, “Later, Gil.” He stomped out the door, leaving me alone with Gump-Gone-Bad.

  Or was I alone? From a nearby closet I heard banging, thumping and muffled indistinguishable words.

  “Binnie?” I yelled. “Is that you?”

  Big bang on the door and increased thumping. She’s alive!

  “Had to stick her in the closet,” the Gump man said. “She’s crazy. Punched me right in the face.” He pointed to his black eye.

  Was I surprised?

  He sat across from me on a wooden crate. I recognized the revolver in his hand. It was the gun Binnine had gotten from her cousin Felix.

  Okay, time to think sexy thoughts. Oh, that’ll be easy, considering I’m tied up in a room with a deranged killer. “Your black eye is so manly.”

  “Tryin’ to be funny,” he said. “I’ll put tape over your mouth, too. I got another closet here if you can’t behave.”

  Deep inhale. Long exhale. Increase the dopamine in my system to make it easier for my sex glands to get moving. Now, open my eyes and study him. There had to be something about this guy that could turn me on. Let’s see. He had hairy forearms. Like Mr. Miller, my eighth grade history teacher. That’s it. Mr. Miller. He always used to roll up his sleeves and his manly arms would drive me nuts.

  “It would make things easier if I knew your name,” I said in a soft voice. “Did I hear them call you Gil? Gil what?”

  He hesitated a moment, then mumbled, “Gilbert Fleeger.”

  I leaned as close to him as I could, letting him inhale my scent. “Gilbert Fleeger. That is such a cool name.” I tried to put the Mr. Miller fantasy onto Fleeger, but every time I conjured sexy thoughts my mind kept flashing back to Eldridge and the way he carried me down the side of that building. Take another crack. “Gil, your hands look really strong. Bet you’re really good with them. Do you do carpentry? Or crafts?”

  He actually blushed. “Yeah, I do like to work with my hands. Right now I’m taking an online course in taxidermy.”

  Neighbors, guard your pets. “How exciting. Would you mind massaging the back of my neck? Bet you’re good at that, too.”

  “Just don’t tell Curtis.” Gilbert stuck the gun into the belt of his pants and stood behind me. Using his fingers, he kneaded the muscles on the sides of my neck. “You’re a lot nicer than your friend. She hit me and said terrible things about my I.Q.”

  For two minutes I engaged in a sensual thoughts exercise I taught clients whose minds were so tied up with the stress of high-powered careers that their love lives took a nosedive. Of course, most of my thoughts were of Eldridge, but at least it got me feeling sexy.

  Switching into my breathy, hypnotic mode, I figured a dose of the power of suggestion might egg things on a little bit. “Did you know infants can identify the scent of their own mothers? Smelling is our most primal sense. Why, it can jolt us back to a particular time or place faster than anything.” I tipped my head back and looked up at him. Aha. His eyes said it all. “Gilbert?”

  “Dr. Oz,” he said wistfully, “you are the most beautiful woman in the entire universe. And that includes New York.”

  It was working. Even though my erotic thoughts were about Mace rather than Fleeger. Hmm. Something Tim and Gwen hadn’t considered. This stuff could be trouble. Any uncouth undesirables might be caught in the crossfire. In the meantime, I’d better take advantage. “Who owns this building?”

  “The boss.”

  “And who is your boss?” I asked sweetly.

  “Chub Dubs.”

  “Yes, I know. But what’s your boss’s real name?”

  “Gee, I’m not supposed to tell.” His fingers moved from my neck and started down the front of my shirt. “Please do it with me, “ he begged. “Fast, before the boss finds out.”

  “Not until you tell me his or her name.” I caught hold of his wrist and lifted it away from me. I noticed his tattoo. “What’s with all these numbers everybody’s got inked on their forearms? You have a nine. Curtis has a thirteen.”

  He pouted, and to my relief, pulled back. “I get it. You like Curtis better than me.”

  “Is it some kind of rank? The tattoos?”

  “The size of our dicks,” he said, his expression totally serious.

  The oldest male ranking system of all. “But does it mean something else? A secret society?”

  “Reminds us of our power
as men,” he said. “Boss doesn’t hire guys with less than nine inches. Curtis, he’s got the biggest.”

  Figures. “And where is Curtis right now?”

  “On his way here with Chub Dubs. I was right. You do want Curtis instead of me.” He had that same dazed and hungry expression I’d seen on Anthony, Chip and Alan.

  “No, Gilbert. You’re much sexier. In fact, if you’ll help me get out of here, we could go somewhere and celebrate our love.”

  His hands went to work feverishly cutting the tape with a pocketknife. I almost felt guilty. Almost. As soon as I was free, I yanked open the closet door to see what shape Benita was in.

  “You can’t do that,” Gilbert said. “Boss won’t like it.”

  “Never mind that. If you want me to make love to you, Gilbert, you must please me. Do as I say. Cut her free and remove the tape from her mouth.” He obeyed.

  Benita sprang from the closet. “Don’t ask me how you did that. This guy is reeeee-pulsive.”

  I shushed her, not wanting to disturb the effects of the perfume. “Now, Binnie,” I whispered, “you can find something attractive in every single person if you look hard enough. I also have an exceedingly fertile imagination.”

  Gilbert put his arms around me, his hot wet breath on my neck.

  Benita grimaced. “Do I have to watch this? It’s making me sick.”

  I gently pushed away my devotee. “Soon, Gilbert. Not yet.”

  Benita leaned close to my ear. “Quit wasting time and get my gun back.”

  Good point. “Gilbert. I want you to give me that gun in your pants.”

  “Finally,” he said, grinning and unzipping his fly.

  “No, no. I mean the one tucked in your belt.”

  He slumped down, lower lip protruding. “Gee, I don’t know.”

  Benita stepped forward and made a grab for the revolver.