by Wayne Tripp
“If you’re quite done undressing me with your eyes, sir; what would you like me to wear? I can see by the look in your eyes you’d quite prefer to undress me with your hands, you beast. That’s really quite shocking. I’m just an innocent teacher. I suppose you’re going to force me to do unspeakable things.” She pulled off her prim little school teacher act with only the slightest smile, the merest hint of a giggle.
Jamie knew she liked to spice up their sex with her little games. He’d already been the teacher’s pet a number of times. She had a bunch of costumes. She made a lovely flight attendant, a playful nurse, and the sexiest French maid. He had to admit, he kind of liked the games too, but the cop in him wondered what it was she was trying to hide.
“Earth to Jamie. Sweetheart? Tell me what to wear. You know, I’ve been a very naughty girl. Maybe you should spank me. Tonight, sweetheart, I’ll let you do anything you want to me.”
Jamie shot a quick glance at her, and realized just how hot her disheveled look made him feel. “You serious? Okay–keep the blouse on. And cover yourself up, you little tart!”
“Oh–firm and bossy. You like my spinster teacher blouse?”
Jamie caught the little sarcastic emphasis on spinster. She was pushing again. Fine. He could dodge the hint.
“Jamie, you’re such a forceful brute. I like that in my man!”
He shot a glance at her, realizing something familiar. For some reason, Lacey was naturally very submissive. Why?
"Good, I aim to please."
Flashing a devilish grin, he realized he was starting to enjoy this game. “Now, button up that blouse all the way. That’s it. No, don’t bother with a skirt. Lacey, why don't you ever close your curtains?” Why did she never pull down her shades or close her blinds? He knew there were women who left them open for a thrill, getting excitement turning voyeurs on. Lacey wasn’t one; she was really quite shy, and would blush bright red with embarrassment if she thought someone was watching her. So why not close the damned blinds? He knew she thought she was out in the boonies, but there were a lot of locals strolling about. They weren’t all nice. Some of them might decide to play her little rape game for real.
“Miss Rodriguez, is it? School teacher, huh? Well, Miss Rodriguez, why don’t you put those shoes on? The shiny pink ones. Now get you sweet little butt over here."
“Oh! O-okay, you beast.” He could tell she was really getting into her role. She really did act frightened. “J-just please don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything you want. Anything!” He caught just the slightest naughty giggle as she said the last word.
“I know you will!” He reached for the handcuffs he kept hidden at the back of his jeans. “You sure you’re okay with this, Lace? You’ve always shied away from any kind of bondage in our other games. You do remember there’ll be a safe word?”
“Oh–bondage. That’s what you want to do? I’d rather not, but– I did tell you I’d do anything." She suddenly sounded very unsure of herself, nervously rubbing the pale scar at her wrist with her slender hand.
"Look, if it bothers you, we won't do this. I'd never force you to do something you're uncomfortable with. Why don't we just cuddle instead? Hon, you do know by now you can trust me? What happened anyway? What are you afraid of?”
“I'd rather not say. And thank you for dropping the bondage stuff. I haven't seen much of you lately, so cuddling sounds divine. If I know you, you'll find your way into my panties soon enough."
"We could play the tickling game," he teased.
“NO tickling! You start tickling me, I’ll scream bloody murder! You hear me, James MacLeod! No tickling.”
“Wouldn’t think of it, Lace. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson. Was kind of funny though.”
“James! Oh God. Shit!”
“Is that any kind of language for a teacher, Miss Rodriguez? Do you talk to your kids that way?”
“I’m sorry sweetie, but I’ve got to pee really badly. Sorry. I’ll be quick, promise. I’d like to fix up a little bit better for you too. Maybe put on that lacy bra you like.”
Already horny enough to burst, but trying to be compassionate and understanding, he smiled and waved her away. “Go, go. The last thing I want is you peeing on me, sweetie." Barely able to hold herself, she scurried down the hall and into the bathroom. He sighed, and began wondering why she was so adamant about not being bound. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, didn't she? What was it with her and being tied up anyway? He couldn’t help but wonder what had triggered her phobia. She seemed really terrified when he suggested it, even though she had to know he'd never force it. Through a slit in the poorly drawn curtains, he noticed the snow had stopped. As he turned away, the merest sliver of moonlight peeked out of the glowering clouds, dazzling his eyes. Cursing, he jerked his face back into the bedroom, his cerulean blue irises already ratcheting down like a camera lens into the darkest cobalt. He yanked the curtains tight and stalked away, his mood showing much more concern. This wasn't good. Unconsciously, his handsome face drooped with a disgusted frown. He felt like a hot air balloon deflating as his romantic desire quickly drained away. He really should go while he still could.
“W-who are you, sir? What are you doing in my classroom?” Jamie looked up to see a refreshed Lacey standing arrogantly in the doorway, long fingers glittering with rings stationed firmly on her hips, lovely face shimmering with haughty defiance. She’d fixed her hair and added her glasses, perched on the end of her narrow nose; she was every guy’s fantasy of their favorite teacher. He thought she looked absolutely beautiful, good enough to eat. Jamie was suddenly rock hard. "I thought we might try the bondage thing after all. I-I realized I was being foolish, worrying so. You'd never hurt me."
“Of course I wouldn't, Lace. I only want to make you happy."
She melted a bit and flashed him her shy smile. “I’m sorry I took so long, sweetheart. Allegro was meowing to be fed, and I didn’t dare ignore her. Such a loveable kitty, but sometimes she can be such a pain. Remember the last time–she landed right in the middle of your back.”
Like many single young women living on their own away from family, Lacey had adopted a calico kitten, and was totally devoted to her pet. Jamie dreaded the day the wandering pussy became a light snack for a coyote or worse.
“Lately Allie’s developed a pretty finicky stomach so I had to let her out if I didn’t want to wake up to a carpet full of puke. I know you told me not to, but she sets up such a ruckus if I don’t give in and let her out. She’s such a little spoiled brat. And I’m such a pussy.” Taking a sip of the Kendall Jackson Merlot she’d brought back with her, she giggled. “Oops. A poor helpless pussy.”
Jaime forced a smile, his mind worrying the rising situation like an old bone. What was he going to do?
“My hair was such a mess. I used a ton of pins. You seem to think I look okay, so I guess it was worth it.” She pushed her glasses up and flashed him a mischievous smile. “What are you going to do to me, sir?”
"Not much," he said. "Got a call on my cell while you were in the bathroom. There's a disturbance in town," he lied. "Got to go, Hon. I'm sorry." At least that part is true, he thought.
He was dressed and out the door before she could do much more than gape at him, collapse onto her bed and fight back tears.
* * * *
Late that night, a drunk named Cyrus Skinner disappeared. A deckhand on the stern dragger Carol Ann, Cyrus had been busy drinking up his pay. Having downed a six-pack of Bud behind the ferry’s office, the fisherman was sailing a ragged course along the empty pier when something big with three inch claws hit him hard. The first swipe took off half his face. Flailing wildly, Cyrus tried to force a gurgling shriek. The second blow, ripped out his throat. Cyrus slumped down lifeless behind a wall of stacked lobster traps. The shadowy beast looked around for uninvited dinner guests, and hunkered down next to his steaming meal. It opened Skinner’s c
hest with hardly a sound, and began to feed. Subtle sounds filtered through the night: constantly dripping blood mingling with the salty sea, energetically messy eating, and the occasional crunching of bone. Later, the fisherman’s cooling remains made a single quiet splash. They’d provide a tasty snack for the myriad small fish– tautog, eels, and cunners mostly, flitting about the slick pilings of the ferry’s dock after dark. A lone sand shark cruised in, took a few cautious bites, and then nervously rocketed out to safer waters. The morning tide would lift the fisherman’s skeletal remains and wedge them tightly between two rotting pilings deep in the silent shadows beneath the dock.
Chapter 6
His house phone was ringing by the time he got home. Of course he knew who it was. Lacey. He hadn’t meant to break his neck answering it, but he did. She’d be upset of course; he expected to be holding the phone at arm’s length while she cried at him in Puerto Rican. It was the only time she really spoke her grandmother’s tongue; when she was really stressed. The fact she was ringing him now instead of waiting until morning to yell at him was not a good sign. She must be royally pissed. Their romance was well and truly buggered; he’d really screwed up this time. Couldn’t help it wormed through his brain. Damn moon was supposed to be out, not hiding behind the clouds. It didn’t matter; it was over. Gripping his soul between his teeth, he grabbed the phone. Dear Lord, for what we’re about to receive…
The seductively sweet voice coming through the line was a complete shock. Lacey asked if he’d been able to quell the disturbance, real concern in her voice. She was disappointed of course, but knew he was always on call for the force; she’d just hoped he’d stay the night. Her bed was so cold; he could almost see her pouting through the phone. This wasn’t at all what he’d expected. He’d lied to this woman mere hours ago. He felt like a total asshole.
On her end, she waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she sniffed through her tears, and teased, “It’s all right, Jamie. I-I was concerned for your safety, so I called the station an hour after you left. The officer at the desk told me there was no disturbance. Downtown was dead quiet." She paused, obviously waiting for a response. At his end, Jamie didn’t know what to say. Should he apologize, or just wait for her to explode?
“It's all right. I was pretty tired after school anyway. W-was it anything I said, or did? Or wouldn't do? The phone went dead for a sizeable pause. Jamie couldn’t help but wonder; Lacey had some pretty low self-esteem. She was not only beautiful and smart, but the sweetest woman he’d ever met. She could get anyone. Why was she putting up with his shit?
“Jamie, are you still there? Was it something I did?"
"No, it was me. My fault completely. I feel like a total jerk."
"Don't. I-I love you.” There came a longer, awkward pause from his end of the phone. She seemed to take the cue; when she spoke again, she was losing the fight to keep the tears out of her voice. “Anyway, I didn’t want you to feel bad or worry.” She managed to force a little of the flirtatiousness back in her voice, “I was hoping to see you again tomorrow night. You know–Valentine’s Day. We could spend a quiet evening here. I’d cook us both a nice Italian dinner, or maybe I’d try to copy one of those Puerto Rican dishes we tried in New York. Romantic music, candles, and all.” When Jamie was slow to respond, Lacey, always the optimistic trooper, forged ahead. “For dessert, you could have–me.” There was a long pause, broken by her nervous voice. “James can you make it? Around 7:15? Please say yes.” In the background, he’d heard her calico cat, Allegro, purring as Lacey sat stroking it on her lap. Now she’d stopped, waiting, and the cat had stopped purring too, as though its own happiness hung on his answer. “Jamie?”
In a voice drained of emotion, flavored with none of the determined resolve he felt, Jamie listened to himself break the heart of the woman he loved. And he did love her; otherwise he wouldn’t be bothering to avoid her, would he? In his heart he knew he was screwing things up more. He had no choice, did he? Lacey probably had hopes for a ring, either the family heirloom he’d shown her, or a traditional engagement ring. He just wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment. Was he? The thought of it scared the crap out of him. “I can’t Lace. I’ve got to go to Salem," he lied. Beginning to be a habit. "I've got to take care of some unfinished business.” Even to him the flimsy excuse sounded blatantly phony.
“Oh…okay. Well, maybe Thursday then. Please don’t let this come between us, Jamie. I’m not giving up on you, James MacLeod. This doesn’t have to be a big deal. I can understand with that murder case you're on, you're tired and you might not be in the mood. I’m a big girl. You’re normally such a sweet guy. I mean that. It’s not like you forced me to do that bondage thing and you’d really hurt me or anything, sweetheart.”
But I might have. . God help me, I might've. I just couldn’t help myself. A few days, just a few more days. Maybe he’d better place another call to Salem.
“Look, Lace. I’ve got to go. I’m glad you’re not mad at me. I didn’t mean to put you off. We'll have a good time this weekend. Promise. No more lies. I’d never want to hurt you. I’ll see you this weekend, all right?”
From her end, Lacey’s voice let him off the hook. “Oh– not until the weekend? I-I guess–sure. Of course, silly. I love you. I was thinking you could take me to that old asylum Saturday; the one you told me about. Maybe we could explore it together. It sounds positively creepy.”
He’d just been thinking he wanted to reach through the phone and kiss her. Stroke her arms and kiss her all over. Rub her little feet the way she loved, even though the tickling always made her giggle and pull away. Now, her words sent icy chills jittering through his veins, and stuck a jagged icicle straight into his heart.
“I don’t think so, Lace. That’s more than just a creepy place, sweetheart. It’s dangerous. It’s falling down with lots of broken glass and rusty equipment. There’s a whole bunch of really nasty stories about that place. I think we’d better go someplace else.”
“Nonsense. You’ll just have to be my hero and protect me, you handsome devil. I will see you this weekend, MacLeod. I’ll wear that sleeveless dress you like, the one with the little flowers and all the buttons down the front. I’ll expect you to romance me out of it and have your way with me.”
“You are a wicked teacher.”
“And you’re such a hot, handsome man. I love you, James MacLeod.” So softly she probably thought he couldn't hear, she added “with all my heart.” She undoubtedly hoped he felt the same about her.
Chapter 7
Kat was bent over Larry White’s desk looking at the morning paper when Jamie MacLeod walked in humming a tune from Phantom of the Opera. Both she and White looked up as MacLeod put down his Dunkin Donuts coffee and came toward them, smiling.
“Oooh, if it isn’t the Mad Scotsman. Somebody got laid last night. You got that so-satisfied look on your ugly mug, MacLeod. Anybody I know? I might want to pay her a visit myself?”
“Lawrence, you know I’m not one to screw and tell.”
“Oh God-damned! Not the ice princess! You still banging that school teacher? Damn! I’m surprised your dick doesn’t fall off with frostbite! She makes Laura Ingles look like a two-dollar slut!”
“Laura who?” Kat looked at the African-American cop, throwing her hands palm up in wonder. “Larry, who are we talking about?” Still half engrossed in reading the Island Crier’s flattering review of her group’s performance on the weekend, Kat had missed most of the exchange, though she suspected she knew who they were talking about. MacLeod’s usual bang hole, Lacey Rodriguez. “Who’s Laura Ingles?”
“Little house on the prairie.” He poked his black friend in the shoulder. “Come on, Larry, she’s not like that. Not at all. You’ve met her what, once? I know she may have come off as kind of arrogant and aloof, but that's mostly shyness. She’s really very warm and sweet.
You’re just not used to a real lady.”
“What, Miss stuck-up Bitch? Oh man–you’ve got it bad!”
Kat wanted to be nice, but Lacey Rodriguez was in her way. Go Larry, go! She didn’t strike me as all warm and cuddly, the ice-hearted bitch. The claws were out as soon as she met me. Course, it was pretty obvious I’m interested in diddling her man. Kat hoped Jamie wasn’t really too hung-up on Lacey. She could compete with lust, but if he was deeply in love with the other woman, he might be a lost cause. Worth a shot though. All was fair in love and war, wasn’t it?
“Can we change the subject? What’s so interesting in the Crier?”
“You mean besides the usual financial woes, missing kids, and Rosetti's Furniture Store ads? Well, our Kat here moonlights as singer for a local Irish band, The Celtic Cross. Have I got that right? Anyway, she débuted a new tune Saturday night at the Frolickin’ Mermaid, and it was a smashing hit. What did you call it, Hon?”
“Broken hearted Bride. Maybe you and Larry could come tonight, Jamie. It’s our Valentine’s bash. It’d really please me if you’d be my guests. I could probably finagle Shamus into throwing in a couple of free brews. What do you say?”
* * * *
She’d been playfully twisting one of her wayward red curls as she looked at the paper. Now as she offered the invite, Jamie noticed her playing with the long necklace wound around her throat, seductively running the jet beads through her full lips and nipping down with her perfect teeth. Her large green eyes sparkled, the morning sun streaming through their office’s grimy window, igniting her red hair in a fiery blaze. It was a damned good thing he wasn’t too committed to Lacey. In spite of himself, Kat excited the hell out of him. Luckily, the top of White’s battered desk hid the bulge suddenly swelling inside his jeans. He half expected any second his excited prick would lift the officer’s desk right off the floor.