The Legend of Arturo King

by L. B. Dunbar

  “What?” He grinned at me as he kissed my wrist again.

  “I thought we might be over. Now that we were back in the city.”

  Arturo pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped with a jerk. Turning to face me, he took my cheeks in his hands.

  “Is that what you want?” his voice cracked.

  “No.”

  “Then why would you say that? And don’t say it’s because I’m a player. And don’t say it’s because I have a reputation. We’ve spent the past weeks discovering each other and I’ve only been with you. You’re the only one I want to be with.”

  His mouth was on mine before he completely finished the last word. Lips collided and captured as he vanquished my mouth, sucking in my tongue after parting my lips with his own. Our tongues fought for control over one another, but I knew that Arturo would win. He would conquer me and possess me, and eventually he might break me.

  He pulled back with a rapid release of my mouth and I followed after him, the momentum drawn to his lips. “Let’s go home. I need to show you how much I want to be with only you.”

  He released my face quickly and if I had been standing I would have fallen, I was leaning into him so much. He shifted his Camaro into drive and sped down the side street as if racing toward a finish line. We were only blocks from his apartment and he pulled into the garage with enough force that the vehicle actually jumped through the entrance door. I felt like his kiss was only the battle before the war and I sensed the aggression still within him as he slammed the car into park. He was out of the car before I even had my seatbelt unbuckled and he was around the car, opening my door. I pointed toward the trunk, about to mention our things, but Arturo was practically dragging me up to his apartment.

  Once inside the door of his place, he stopped. Bending at the waist, he placed his hands on his knees for a moment, breathing deeply as if he had run a marathon. I continued forward into his large living space. I could hear him breathing heavily a few paces behind me, and I stood at the back of the couch when he came up behind me so suddenly a breath escaped me. His hand had lifted the skirt of my dress and his fingers slid inside me without any warning.

  “This is my house, Guinie.” His fingers slipped to the edge and slammed back into me. I groaned and arched my back to press my ass into his hard center.

  “You are my home and I plan to live inside you all the days of my life.”

  His mouth was on my neck in that sweet spot and my knees began to give way as I gripped the back of the couch for support. He gave a rough tug to my panties, but once they cleared my hips, they slid on their own to the floor. I heard the sound of his belt unbuckle and his jeans unzip. I hadn’t ever done it this way and my heart raced in my throat at the excitement and the fear of him entering me from behind.

  “Hold the couch, Guinie,” he demanded as he tugged my hips toward him. As much as I felt prepared for the assault, my arms gave out and I slipped forward at his first thrust.

  “My home, Guinie, is you,” he growled. “Stay with me.”

  I was silent. My concentration was on the rough pleasurable connection between his body and mine.

  “Say yes, Guinie.”

  “Yes.”

  He wrapped his hand in my ponytail, tugging gently, and I moaned, “Yes. Yes. Yes,” matching each thrust that rammed into me.

  “Guinie,” he hissed and his fingers reached for the sensitive nub, stroking vigorously as he slid in and out of me. He massaged around my folds, slicing me open, and the sensation crept from my toes through my thighs and up my center. I clenched and came hard.

  “Arturoooo,” I moaned as my head fell forward toward the couch and I pushed back to meet his final slam into me. He held my hips still as I felt him pulse inside me and I continued to squeeze him, melting with the sensation of holding him within me.

  He slid out of me just as abruptly as he entered me and held my hips for longer. I gazed over my shoulder at him, unable to release the couch in my shaky state of satiation. His eyes were closed and his hands slowly caressed my bare bottom.

  “Did I hurt you?” he whispered in a breathless, raspy voice.

  I couldn’t move. I didn’t know if I was hurt, but the pleasure was overwhelming, masking any discomfort.

  “I don’t think so.”

  He reached around me and tugged my hand tenderly to spin me to face him.

  “I can’t apologize. That was amazing, as everything with you has been. I just want you to understand how much I want you. Want you to be with me. Here.”

  I nodded, knowing there was no place else I’d rather call home.

  He placed me in the warm bath between his legs and gently washed my shoulders, my arms, and my back. He leaned me against his chest and continued to caress my breasts in a utilitarian way. He was taking care of me. He lifted each leg and stroked the length of it with the soap, rubbing small circles down my skin before rinsing each leg under the water. When he finished, he wrapped his arms around my stomach and just held me against him.

  I had wanted to tell my dad where I was and shouldn’t have been surprised to find he already knew I was staying the night at Arturo’s. What upset me was Arturo told my father before he asked me.

  Additionally, Arturo was demanding he escort me to the audition.

  “I’ll just introduce you to the girls, then leave.”

  “Arturo,” I said quietly, “I want to thank you again for all you’ve done for me. For the audition. But I need to do this for myself. By myself.”

  He was silent for a moment, and nipped my shoulder.

  “Do you understand?”

  Arturo’s forehead was on my shoulder now and he shook it from side to side.

  “I didn’t do anything but set it up, Guinie. The rest is up to you.”

  “I know, but you did arrange it and I don’t want any special favors because you show up with me.”

  I felt his frown against my neck.

  “Let me do this for you. I want to do something for you.”

  “Why?”

  He turned my face to look at him as best I could.

  “Because I … I care about you.”

  I couldn’t help it, my shoulders sagged. It wasn’t the answer I wanted. Distracting myself, I kissed him tentatively, letting my lips linger softly on his with gentle pulls and hesitant licks. Arturo let me take control for a few moments as I let my tongue outline his lips, tasting him as if to memorize his mouth. He opened as if to catch my tongue, but I pulled back. He stilled and I resumed my wet assault, kissing him again softly then trailing a path over his jaw to his neck.

  “Guinie.” I felt his throat grumble against my lips. “Let me make love to you again, Guinie Girl.” He stood and water cascaded off of him as he picked me up, exiting the tub. Wrapping me loosely in a towel, he carried me to his large bed and dried me off with slow strokes of the thick material and a shower of sweet kisses before he entered me again. This time he was careful and patient as he prolonged the pleasant torture before we both found release.

  I was dressed casually, as Arturo had directed me. I was used to performances that involved evening gowns that draped to my feet and the casualness of my jeans and a frilly blouse weren’t what I intended to wear. I needed to go home – to my father’s house – and retrieve some of my things. Are we living together? I wasn’t certain.

  Now was not the time to question my relationship with Arturo, though. I wanted this potential job and I wanted it on my own terms. Arturo would not relent and he drove me to the audition at a bar on the Lower East Side. It wasn’t what I expected either.

  The Emerald Isle was an intimate tavern that looked like something found in England. The lower level was centered around a large bar that encompassed one full wall of the space. Mirrors behind the bottles were highlighted with the heavy dark wood of the shelves’ dividing sections. The bar itself was massive and thick-looking, very old world in style. Small two-person tables were dabbled here and there through the open area. I
n the corner were several music stands and four folding chairs. The place had an upstairs as well that I was told had larger tables and was solely for dining.

  When we entered the lounge, the darkness was blinding and I blinked several times to make my eyes adjust. At the bar were two women. One sat on a bar stool, the other stood leaning against the wooden rail. A third woman stood behind the bar, wiping a glass.

  “Hey, Arturo,” grinned the woman behind the bar, placing the glass down and coming around the counter to hug him briefly. She was roughly the same size as me, but what surprised me was the fact she wore pearls with her green Emerald Isle T-shirt and shorts. She immediately turned to me and held out her hand.

  “Lace Cardaugh,” she introduced and warm caramel-colored eyes meet me in welcome.

  “Guinevere DeGrance.” Shaking hands, the other woman admitted she was familiar with me.

  “We went to Performing Arts together. I was in Lansing’s class.”

  I tried not to miss a beat in shaking hands as my heart faltered when I realized this woman might know a thing or two about Lansing Lotte. And me.

  “That’s Enid Kelly.” Lace pointed to the woman sitting at the bar, who now twisted to face me. She smiled pleasantly under a mound of wildly curly red-orange hair and her green eyes brightened as she raised her glass in acknowledgement. “Welcome.”

  “And that’s Trinity Donovan,” Lace addressed the woman bracing her back against the bar, keeping her eyes on Arturo. Her hair was bleached almost white and hung in a low bang over one icy-blue eye. She looked like a hardcore Tinkerbell with multiple bands covering both her wrists, low-hung olive-green pants, and a tight white tank top. She was surprisingly feminine despite the manly attire and her eyes never left Arturo’s face. She nodded her introduction to me and offered nothing more.

  A rather pregnant woman entered from a room off the back of the bar and waddled over to me. Instead of shaking hands, she embraced me before pulling back to grip my upper arms. Rich dark eyes meet mine.

  “I’m so happy you’re here. It’s a pleasure to meet someone so special to Arturo.” She smiled warmly and Arturo introduced her.

  “This is Allora Cardaugh, Allora Shaw now.” Releasing me, the woman reached for Arturo and kissed him on his cheek. Arturo actually dipped his head in embarrassment.

  “Allora and I have known each other for a while.”

  “He’s being modest. We go back years. Ana introduced us.”

  I felt like a conversation crossed between Arturo’s dangerous glare and Allora’s gentle stare. I was uncomfortable and I remembered that this exact feeling was why I didn’t want Arturo present. He stretched a hand toward me, but I shook my head and he lifted it to slide through his choppy locks instead. It wasn’t a smooth movement, and it didn’t disguise my denial.

  “I’m going to go down the street for a coffee and leave you girls at it,” Arturo said, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Coffee down the street? I’m offended,” Lace scowled at him. “We might be a bar, but we have coffee. Enid, honey, can you get him a cup?” Enid was already off her seat and heading into the room behind the bar. I noticed that Trinity was still glaring at Arturo, and I had a second reason to feel uncomfortable. There was obviously something between them and it was noticeable from Arturo’s avoidance of Trinity and Trinity’s will to make him not ignore her.

  Arturo had carried my cello case and he crossed in front of me to one of the seats in the corner. I followed and quickly reached for the instrument. He leaned forward and kissed my neck, whispering, “Good luck.” I forced a smile at him and his eyes questioned me. I refused to return his gaze and busied myself with my sheet music.

  “Why don’t we get started with a classic?” Allora smiled with encouragement. I stalled a moment by straightening my sheets, taking a slow, deep breath and trying to steady my shaking hands. Once I righted the cello between my knees and took up the bow, I closed my eyes and began to play Beethoven’s Cello Sonato No. 1 in F minor. I had only stroked my strings a few times when I heard an emphatic, “No.”

  I opened my eyes to find Trinity glaring at me.

  “Absolutely not,” the pixie-haired girl met my eyes with her piercing stare.

  “I think what Trinity means,” Allora leveled a look at her friend before turning to face me with her own forced smile, “is something classic rock.”

  I nodded once and began playing “Yesterday” by the Beatles, which featured a cello solo. I watched Trinity cover her face and shake her head aggressively to and fro. In my determination, and growing anger at this woman’s displeasure, I shifted to something more modern, “Secrets” by Coldplay. I put my heart into playing that song and it spoke volumes to the room, which seemed to be full of secrets between these women and Arturo. Sweat rolled down the side of my hairline and I looked up to meet the narrowed eyes of Trinity.

  “Getting closer,” Trinity spoke opening.

  I knew this girl wanted edgy and I shifted to “Sail” by AWOLNATION. Trinity’s eyes widened as she watched me pluck and strut against my strings. I forced my gaze on Trinity’s blue eyes as if sending her a message: Whatever was the past was the past. I am Arturo’s future. The realization empowered me and I ended on a sharp note with a flourish of my bow. Holding Trinity’s glare, she and I stared each other down for a moment before clapping in the background broke our trance. The sound zoomed in for me as if someone was turning up the volume slowly and I moved toward the sound to find Lace applauding along with Allora and Enid.

  “Wonderful,” Lace nodded in encouragement. “I think-”

  “We have things to discuss,” Trinity interrupted.

  “I think we need to let her play again with you girls,” Allora raised an eyebrow at Trinity and her look stopped the other woman, who was opening her mouth to speak again.

  “How about next week? On Monday again? We can run it like a practice only it will include Guinie to see how she fits within the group?”

  Allora continued to glare at Trinity and the pixie girl consented, but not before storming out of the room. Allora turned to Arturo.

  “She’s beautiful,” she addressed him as if I wasn’t in the room.

  “I told you,” Lace added, looking at me and smiling. She definitely had questions for me that had nothing to do with Arturo. Or possibly, everything to do with him.

  “I agree,” Arturo spoke, interrupting my concern. He was looking at me, his face full of … pride, possibly.

  With the arrangement to meet again the following Monday, we said our good-byes and Arturo exited the lounge carrying my cello case again. He slid an arm around my shoulders to draw me to him.

  “You were amazing. They loved you.”

  I stopped walking. The adrenaline rush of both playing well and standing off with another woman gave me the strength to address him.

  “What went on between you and Trinity?”

  “What? Nothing.” The lie was written all over his face.

  “Arturo,” my voice was firm.

  “I might have had a few … encounters … with her.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I did.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” he sighed, “do you really want to know this?”

  I turned and walked away from him. He hadn’t answered my question. Stumbling to keep up with me at first, he walked in front of me to block me.

  “Who else in that room did you sleep with?”

  “Guinie,” his voice warned.

  “Who. Else.”

  “Allora,” he paused. “And Lace. But they don’t know about each other.”

  “Oh. My. God.”

  I brushed past him and continued to stomp down the sidewalk, not sure where I was going, but determined to get away from him.

  His hand wrapped around my arm and he pulled me hard to stop. Sheepishly, he addressed me.

  “My car’s that way,” nodding his head in the opposite direction.

&n
bsp; “I’m not riding with you. I need to walk.” I reached for my cello and he pulled it behind his back out of my reach.

  “Guinie.”

  “Don’t. Just don’t Guinie me in that patronizing voice. This was hard for me and you knew it, but to put me in a room of your past conquests and let me fumble my way through that audition was … painful, Arturo.”

  I turned my back on him and walked away again. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hold the stabbing feeling in my stomach inside as he followed behind me for a few minutes. I was hurt; it was that simple.

  “Guinevere,” he said in my ear when we reached a crosswalk to wait for the light, “it’s not what you think. I can’t erase my past. The past is the past. You are my future.”

  My neck twisted and my eyes shifted sideways to look at him. He had used my own words of strength from moments ago against me. The words that fueled my determination now gave me relief. I felt my anger melt away slightly and I visibly relaxed my arms. Arturo stepped into my space and surrounded me with one arm, drawing me into his chest.

  “It’s only you for me now, Guinie. Only you.”

  Arturo

  I hadn’t convinced her and I knew it. I also knew how I would convince her that my feelings were real. What I couldn’t do was explain how I knew the girls, especially not Allora Shaw.

  It had been a rave. I got the last-minute call to the place, which turned out to be a boat on the edge of the waters of Lake Avalon, and I was immediately surrounded by fans. Our band was recognizable, and we were hot and desired. One dark-haired beauty latched onto me the second I set foot on the boat. She had a nice grip on my arm and a sweet body to match, so I didn’t shove her away, but let her dangle on me. She gave me a candy-covered bracelet to put on my wrist and encouraged me to take a bite of the sweet sugar, smiling at me with her cherry-red lips and hooded dark eyes.

  The boat was literally rocking from the amount of people on board and some overflow had gone into a nearby cave, which was more like a cutout in the hill on shore. The music was pumping and the energy was volcanic. I didn’t know the girl’s name. I hadn’t asked and she hadn’t offered, but she tugged me gently toward the cave after being pushed and pulled by too many other bodies. We took turns biting candy off each other’s bracelets, literally getting high off one another. I was in that position when I noticed that a guy had what looked like a 1956 Les Paul guitar. My 1956 Les Paul guitar. The very one I’d used to try to save Kaye.