by Vince Taplin
“My plan was perfect! Well, at least until this deviation…” Alex’s fingers slid across my cheek. “In the beginning, I watched you. I wanted to feel close to you. Pretty soon it wasn’t enough. I needed to see you everywhere, even when you were working. Every day, every single day, I learned to love you more. Isn’t that incredible, Vick?”
“Mmmmmhmmm.” Pay attention, dude. Stay alert. Sounds like that song from A-ha, right? Take on me! The one with the sketched video and amazing intro?
♫ Take on me! Take on me! I’ll beeeeee gonnnneeee! In a day or twooooooooooo!!!! ♫
Holy shit, pay attention, Vick. How are you going to get out?
She talks for nearly an hour. I’d call it rambling, but she speaks with such poise. I am convinced it could have been three or four years, but the clock on the wall told me otherwise. She was devious. Cunning. She’d spent months working through every angle of what she called her “plan.” She always refers to it as “the plan.” The drugs are wearing off, thank God. I can feel strength growing in my arms again. I tighten my fist and feel the creak of the leather on my wrist.
She’d spent a fortune with her attorneys creating those contracts. Days behind desks reviewing all the intricacies. She planned the Christmas party and the after party months in advance. Oh, and I was right about the eBay purchases. She told me she’d slept with my shirts for months until my smell rubbed off. Why are the hot ones always so batty? What happened to her? Did you eat a lot of paint chips? Did Daddy touch you?
Then she told me about Kraya. How she’d been slowly poisoning her mind with cocktails of narcotics and medications. She has a key to our home and swapped pills regularly. She’d stolen overdue bills, too, in an effort to make Kraya look irresponsible. That one I noticed, but I thought it was my own doing, not Kray’s. She checked our bank balances often, and knew the precise day to contact me for the best probability for a sperm donation.
“Did you really want a baby?” My words are a lot less garbled now.
“Oh, of course! But it has to be real. Real like last night…” Her voice trails and she focused on the ceiling for a long while. Eyes blank, staring into space. It’s difficult to see the splendor of the woman I respected, even in awe of, showing her true colors. Alex was a peacock that turned out to be a possum holding up some spray-painted sticks.
“Were the lotto tickets hers? Heroin?”
Alex’s sly smile spoke for her. “Guilty!” She raises a playful hand.
“And all of the visits to the clinic for sperm donations? Th… th… the docs? Were they in on it?”
“Carefully planned, Vick. I’ve spent so much time to get you here. I’ve waited and worked so long to be with you. Amazing, isn’t it? See how much I love you?”
“Did all the doctors know? The lawyers?” I feel duped — the joke is on me and I’m the only fool too dumb to see it.
“No. Gosh, no. I wouldn’t trust them not to blow it. I forged some results and spun some believable stories — so many stories, Vick! Can’t you see? Every one of those people played a role in my plan. In our plan. And each of them needed a script. I wrote all of the scripts. I made all of this possible. Just to be with you.”
She kisses me, violently sucking and licking my mouth. It feels gross. Her taste once sweet is now vinegar on my gums. She’s stolen something from me that I’ll never get back.
She’s dangerous. I need to play this right. Or do I? Would it be so terrible to take advantage of her obsession for my own personal gain? She is terrifying, no doubt, but this may work out for me.
“You did all of that…” I pause dramatically, wide-eyed and stupefied — “…for me?”
Alex’s grin is so big I can see her top molars. “Yes! I did! Do you love it?”
“I… I think I do. No one has ever done anything like this for me. I barely get a birthday card from most people,” I said.
“Of course not, Vick. I love you! We’re made for each other!” she said, hugging my chest.
“Maybe. But I need more. You know me so well. I need to get to know you. It’s only fair.”
“Of course! Of course!” She is shaking with excitement. A ball of energy on my lap.
“And these restraints aren’t helping our trust here, Alex.”
“No? But you know what?” Alex leaned in closely, breathing on my left earlobe, and whispered, “They are good for something…”
I feel warmth in my pants. A hand, I presume, wriggles its way past my waistband. Warm on my bobber as she grips him again.
“You don’t have to move, honey.” Her whispers are raspy and dirty. She pulls my pants down to my ankles. I feel the heat of her skin on my pelvis. She is slippery, teasing my skin, my arousal involuntary.
“Wait… hold on. Were you even married? Is there an ex-husband?”
She stopped sliding around on my waist. Her glare strong and intentional. “Yes, I was married.”
“What happened? Did he really pass away?” I asked.
She pulls off her top and pressed her bare chest to mine. “Yes. He did die…” Alex pulled my shaft upright, sliding herself onto it in a sudden slip. She whispered, “A tragedy, isn’t it?” Alex smirked, impaling herself farther down my pole. “I killed him to be with you, Professor.” She buried me deeper inside her and tightened around me, gently beginning to bounce. “He died right here.” She pointed to the bed with a thin finger. “Right here!” She clenches and spasms. “Right here, baby. I ended him to be with you!” Clawing at my chest — “I did it for you!” She screamed, “I love you, Victor Miller!”
Chapter Fifty-eight
A few Months later
The bartender tripped over himself to serve her, literally and figuratively. Alex, sporting her hot pink, polka-dotted bikini, ordered two piña coladas. One for me, one for her. The sky was clear, wind quiet, and the sun warm. The pool was one of those cool disappearing edge pools I’d seen in travel magazines. The edge blended perfectly with the ocean. Everyone says it’s too cold to swim in the Atlantic, but I’d done it every night anyway. Alex picked our destination. I’d never been to Morocco, and honestly had no idea where it was. We stayed on the north coast, just a skip north of Casablanca, another city I never knew how to find on a map. The resort was beautiful. Three restaurants, four pools, six hot tubs, a helipad, and a cabaret lounge in the lower level. It’s one of those rich people destinations that uses names like cottage or villa to describe your room.
We’d been here for nine days already. Our skin was morphing into a golden, peanut butter brown from the countless hours by the pool. It’s crazy to think it’d already been two months since we were married. I took a chance, made the best move I could and I’m coming out on top. My buddy, Rob, drafted and delivered the divorce paperwork to Kraya. She signed it in her jail cell, where she awaits trial for possession of heroin, child endangerment, driving under the influence, and a handful of other charges. Rob is watching Junior while we’re away. I paid him handsomely, for both the legal help and for watching the wee one.
Alex and I share everything now. It’s part of my agreement. I told her I needed access to everything if I am going to trust her. The past is the past, but going forward, I need total transparency and clear access if I’m going to learn to trust her. She agreed. Of course she did. She loves me. She adores me. The amount of painstaking effort she put forth to snag me is incredible. She didn’t agree without strings though, no, that would be un-Livingston-like. If I had access to everything, she then needed something to solidify my trust. My son. Legally now our son. The adoption paperwork was thicker than the divorce paperwork, but we did it.
After I received the signed copies of the divorce certificate, Alex and I flew to Morocco. We didn’t need family or friends. We have each other. Or rather, Alex had me and I have everything Alex has to offer.
She looked stunning walking up the beach in that white dress. We hired a few pretty people as bridesmaids and groomsmen to complete the look. Perfect, soft sand between our toes
, a Moroccan priest coaching our vows, and a final kiss to solidify our nuptial.
We celebrated our new union every night with fruity drinks and hot tub romps. I’ll hand it to her — she’s a good fuck. Very good. Of course she prefers to call it making love. So I call it making love now to keep her happy.
She’s back with our piña coladas. The wind picked up a bit, blowing the loose towels from our pool chairs and a few stacks of bar napkins into the pool. No other guests bothered us, they couldn’t — we booked the entire resort. The staff was bought and tipped before we arrived. Everything was ready before our private jet hit the tarmac.
“It’s getting windy!” Alex said, holding her flapping towel.
“It is…” I took the coconut drink and nodded to my new bride with a smile. “Thank you. These things are amazing!” I sip. And sip some more. I can’t seem to quench my thirst for booze since I arrived. It’s been a tough year. I sucked on the drink until the straw made empty gurgles. Alex hadn’t even taken off the paper condom from the top of the straw yet. Her jaw dropped. “You know you’re supposed to taste those, right, Professor?”
“Alex. Babe. Seriously? Enough with the professor shit.”
She parked her ass next to me on my lounge chair. “I know… but it’s kinda hot, don’t you think? We’ve been through so much together. It turns me on thinking of you as a professor…” She rims my chest with a finger, biting her lip. Good Lord, woman, does your libido ever run dry?
I take the bait. She looks good and I’m trying my best to learn to love her. I loved her body and coin purse from the get-go, but her mind is going to take some convincing.
Playfully, she pulled me to our villa. Elaborate stone arches and manicured hedges lead us through the maze of our resort. The keycard slid into the cutout above the doorknob and our room unlocked with a buzz. Once inside, Alex pulled the strings dangling from the sides of her bikini. Dainty pieces of swimwear fall to the floor. Blood rushes below my waist. She leaps on top of me, letting out a childish laugh when she lands. “Isn’t this wonderful, Vick? Ugh! It’s… it’s just… things couldn’t have turned out better.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You could have just told me you wanted to run off with me instead of doing all that creepy shit.” I got a good chuckle from that one. We’ve talked through it so many times it was getting repetitive.
We had sex again. Nothing fancy. Missionary with a few edits. She screamed. I screamed. We all screamed for ice cream. I lay back in a sweaty stretch. Alex, equally as sweaty, glistened on the comforter next to me. Her finger traced the scar on my chest.
“Your photoshop skills need help, Alex.”
She smirked, dragged her finger along my off-colored patch of skin, and said, “I can’t believe I forgot something that simple, something so small. How could I have been so stupid?”
Her expression changed from post-sex-glow to doubt and she turned away from me, facing the stucco wall with the terrible Picasso knock-off. She can be a wee scary. One second, a charmer — a beauty with calculated and perfect conversation. The next, dips, depression, ups and anger. She has problems. Along with those problems, she has millions of green buddies named “Bill” that I am happy to be acquainted with.
“Hey… hey, don’t go there again,” I said as I sat up. I rested a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. “Everything is awesome, remember? No need to think about the negatives.”
“You’re right," Alex said, smiling now. She turned back to me and my scar. “You’re right. Everything turned out well. I didn’t blow it. I didn’t screw up the plan. It worked.”
I grab her hand with mine and whisper, “The plan is complete. You win! I’m all yours now, Alex. You better take good care of me.” I find if I play it cool and work like a snake charmer, she calms down. Her episodes have become a regular part of our lives. Like a neighbor’s annoying, barking dog you finally learn to ignore.
“You’re amazing, Professor! Oh God, I just love you! Can you believe we’re getting our rings tonight?” It was her idea to have our rings tattooed on our fingers. I expressed my reservations, but eventually I told her I’d do it. “Sickness and health, Professor. Till death do us part.”
She popped another bottle of champagne and filled our flutes. I can’t tell if the “till death do us part” was a threat, or just Alex being Alex. Either way, I wholeheartedly agreed and took the glass of bubbly with a smirk. Golden bubbles floating up in pretty lines.
“Do you think tonight’s the night?” She sipped champagne and wagged her bare bottom all the way to the bathroom. Our villa is a far-too-open floor plan, where the bathroom is wide open to the bedroom, separated only by a few pieces of clear glass. She squatted over the toilet, dripping on the pink stick. She gave me a thumbs-up in unbridled excitement as she waited for the lines to show.
Alex sat a spell, perched expectantly on the toilet. I tossed off the sheets and slid into the hot tub between the living room and bedroom. A major perk of the ever-so-open floor plan is so I can keep an eye on Alex from everywhere. Or maybe that is exactly what she was thinking. Seconds wore on. Minutes. After a while, she got up, wiped her undercarriage, and threw the stick into the trash. Shit. She reeked of disappointment.
After washing her hands in the weird marble sink, Alex joined me in the tub. She snuggled up to me near the strong jets. I smell champagne on her breath and watch a tear roll from her nose. “Baby, it’s okay. Next time, right? Practice makes perfect?” She liked that, wiping the tear away with a sniffle and a smile.
“Yeah? You’re probably right. People never get pregnant this soon. It may take us a while. And you know what?” Alex pinched my chin. “We have nothing but time.” She wrapped her arms around me tightly, like a mother smothering her baby. “You’re incredible and patient and wonderful and funny and sweet and brilliant and we’re going to get pregnant, Vick.”
She kissed me. Her best, last kiss. “You’re incredible, too, Alex.” I grab her hair with a free hand and plunge her face under the water. “You’re fucking incredible, Alex!” She struggles against my arms. Strong bitch, too. She’s able to pull her head out of the water for a quick, loud draw of air. Back into the tub she goes. Bloop! Struggling, she flails her arms, kicks her legs, and wriggles her torso like a pissed-off trout.
It took longer than I expected for her to start twitching and stop floating. I hold her under for another minute for good measure. While I wait for her to die good ’n permanent, I sip my champagne. Delicious.
Chapter Fifty-nine
“Speaking.”
“Rob, we’ve gotta talk.”
“What do you want, dude? Got another sperm contract I need to review?” He laughs into the phone.
“No. Umm, no. Not that easy this time. I need divorce paperwork.”
“Vick, stop. I know you’re pissed, but it’s just a mistake. It has to be.”
“Whatever. I don’t care. I need divorce paperwork drawn up today.”
“No way. It’s too late. I need to get home, man.”
“I’ll pay you a grand. Per page. I need it ASAP. Also, I need a few new marriage docs and child custody forms.”
Silence.
“Rob, you there?”
Silence.
“Rob?”
“I’m here. I’m… I’m… just taking it all in. You doing okay? Marriage forms? Custody? For what?”
“Tell you what. Meet me at Phil’s so I can sign the forms. It’s closer than your office.”
“Ohhhhhhh-kayyy? I’ll see you there in about an hour. It may take me a bit to get the forms set up.”
“Fine. No sweat — long as we can get the divorce finalized ASAP, I’m good.”
It took me a few minutes to get to Phil’s Tavern. Phil’s is the old dive bar next to the highway. It’d been a saloon in the coal mining days and had a reputation for strong drinks and good popcorn. Some people say that place was a brothel in the eighteen hundreds. Those “some people” also sewed drunken stories of Area Fifty-one and
government vaccination conspiracies, too. I left my phone in the car and headed inside. I had a drink. Then another. The third I sipped. I still need at least one or two wits about me. Rob arrived about an hour later. My third drink was dwindling, but still alive.
No foreplay, no chitchat. Rob got right to the point. “Vick, I know you’re mad at her. But hear me out…”
“No, hear me out, Rob. I don t want to divorce her. I don’t. But I found an opportunity for myself and my family that I can’t pass up…” I finished drink numero tres and cuatro and started number cinco while I told Rob about Alex. I told him everything. We talked about the sperm donations, the prescription drugs, the heroin, and even the lotto tickets. I discussed her weird perv-room with the six on the door, and I told him every electronic device of mine is to be presumed bugged.
“Ah, that’s why you wanted to meet here, not my office. I knew something was up.” He slapped his hand on the table and swigged his bourbon. He spilled a few drops of booze on the divorce paperwork and certificate, wiping them up with a sloppy, drink-ringed bar napkin.
“Look through these when you get home.” I slid a thumb drive across the table to him. “I will still need the divorce though. And a marriage certificate, a child custody release, and adoption and a few other forms.”
“I don’t quite understand, buddy,” Rob said. He lifted the thumb drive from the table and looked at it curiously.
“Good. Then you won’t be an accessory.” I slammed the rest of drinko cinco, signed the divorce forms and anything else that had a yellow “Sign Here!” arrow. I slid on my coat and told him I’d call him. He told me he would email whatever other forms I need ASAP and get the certificates notarized.
“Hey, Rob? Check the thumb drive. Make sure the right people get it.”
Chapter Sixty
I took a moment to collect myself. Alex had been floating around on the bubbling surface of the hot tub for ten minutes. She was dead, leaving behind the hull of a vixen. Or maybe, the soup of a vixen? Though I’m not sure if it qualifies as soup because there aren’t noodles or peas or anything.