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That would've saved me. But it would've been hard to explain to Housekeeping I took the silencer off the gun, but that and the gun in the safe, but didn't lock the safe. Then I hurried and pulled on sweats and shoes, heard Lisa Mack shifting around inside the bathroom, whispered for her to stay in there until I came back inside the room, went back to the peephole to make sure they were still in the hallway, and hesitated before I opened the door Brown Skin on Jamaican heritage. Eyebrows arched thin We faced each other without words Her look was almost unrecognizable. Her untamed hair was now in braids, those braids covered with a beret; her clothes were different, scaled down to jeans and a turtleneck sweater, boots with a sensible heel, an those sensible heels made her seem shorter than I had remembered from yesterday morning. Now she had on brand new clothes, was dressed like she was a native of London, decked out in gloves and a high-end trench coat, head to toe all of her gear was still shades of black, all of her clothing still the various hues of sadness and mourning It was the other woman I had met on the place this morning. The Woman I had bedded as soon as I made it to London Her name was Mrs. Jones She had been sitting in the same section with me and Lisa For eight hours we had been crammed in three seats on the back of a British Airways Airbus. She had cried from America to the UK, heartbroken by her husband, a husband she was divorcing. She left like we were done, now she had come back at sunrise The woman I had just bedded, Lisa Mack was naked and hiding in the bathroom The woman I had bedded yesterday morning, Mrs. Jones was outside my door at the start of a new day, her expensive perfume lighting up the hallway Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide This was so fucking awkward She wasn't the man I had chased in the thick of the night Wasn't that drama at my door But Still I should've shot her so I didn't have to deal with this new breed of drama Mrs. Jones Carmine You came back Surprised? Yeah Shouldn't be. You're a good swimmer Mrs. Jones stood in front of me, prim and proper, that sophistication that had first caught my attention on the flight from Atlanta to London enveloping her. She looked like a superwoman. Rich. Powerful. She began smiling, expensive wine perfuming her every exhale. Yesterday her hair had been big and wild, in neo-soul afro, now it was braided and tame I liked your hair better the other way. Liked it looking wild Good morning to you too Good morning, Mrs. Jones Bad time? I have company Is she French? Russian? Swedish? She's Polish Where did you meet this Polish woman? Met her in the lobby Just when I thought I was irreplaceable I offered you right of first refusal. You chose to leave my bed and walk in the rain You met someone in the lobby, maybe I shouldn't have left so abruptly Mrs. Jones gave me a more chilled overlook that was 100 percent professional I smell her on you I expected anger. Was ready for some level of rage I was...I came back...part of the reason...I wanted to talk business What kind? What we spoke on earlier Hours ago we had talked about killing her husband. Letting her have revenge on the man who had betrayed her with another woman, who had left her marriage "irretrievable" broke She left that at that In her eyes I saw parts of who she used to be, saw the damaged remains of Henrietta Kellogg, the woman who had, in the middle of the night, fled Jamaica in the arms of her father to escape his crimes. And I saw the trouble that was stirring deep inside who she was now. I recognized her need for revenge. We can talk tomorrow Regarding your husband Not my husband Change of heart Some boys hurt my daughter. Them...I would like to talk about...finding them We can do that Have a hypothetical conversation. Along with a hypothetical price Of course The door to my room opened. Hair wild, Lisa stuck her head out At first Lisa looked scared' then that fear changed to surprise, the kind that left her mouth wide-open. Me and Mrs. Jones, outside my hotel room, whispering and plotting Awkwardness invaded the hall, marched in Gestapo boots Hours ago Mrs. Jones was inside that room, on that bed, doing the same things I had done with Lisa no more than two hours ago, had Mrs. Jones on her back, had her kissing me while she spread her legs and allowed me to put something wonderful deep inside her Lisa blinked a few times That you, Mrs. Jones? Lisa Mack, Is that you? Didn't think I'd see you again Sorry...Sorry...sorry if I interrupted...if I disturbed you and Carmine What's going on? There was a pregnant pause Was trying to get a room This hotel is booked solid Will be hard to get a room anywhere this time of night. I mean morning I know. What are my options? You're all wet, Mrs. Jones It's storming out there Compared to Los Angeles weather this is Siberia. Feels like sleet is coming down You can't go out in that weather. You'll end up getting pneumonia...or worse Swine Flu I don't have a choice This is just what I needed, In the wake of my biggest tournament I have to deal with this. In a mar week I am set to fight a whole night, with a chance to face Chris Champion at the biggest show on earth, while in the same breath save NLCW Lisa came out into the hallway, leaning forward, curiosity leading her nose, her hand reaching back, holding the heavy door open. Her hair down, unkempt, sex perfuming her flesh. Her terry-cloth robe came undone, that wardrobe malfunction causing her housecoat to slip away, show off her graceful neck before plummeting and being caught right below her nipples, the yes on those dark twins admiring me and Mrs. Jones. The fullness of Lisa's breasts. The taunt peaks of her nipples. The flesh at the top of her thighs. All seen. Lisa reached for her robe, but the door to the room started to close She gave up fighting with the robe, raced for the door, that robe falling away, revealing her frame, showing the warm and hairless place between her legs. Her breasts, her flat stomach, her hairless pussy, all of that was revealed for a moment. And for that moment, I forgot about everything on my mind Lisa moved in increments, didn't rush, not ashamed of her body, not at all Her girl-next-door look. Small breast. Shapely buttocks Mrs. Jones sighed I looked at Lisa, became aware of the heart in my chest, the dryness of my throat. She wasn't as beautiful as Arizona, but she could hold her own, especially with that breathtaking body Arizona was exotic, a Filipina with skin the hue of sunrise in an exotic land. Arizona was slender, streamlined, body made for being the centerfold in Playboy. Lisa had curves and healthy breasts, the kind of body that would be on the cover of King, Maxim, or FHM. Lisa bumbled, turned the dead bolt on the door to keep it from locking, and then pulled her housecoat back together; still, her legs and bare feet told the rest of the story Another awkward moment was born. Lisa looked embarrassed. I don't know who chuckled first, me or Mrs. Jones, might've been Lisa, but that chuckle broke the tension Lisa blushed what happened with your boyfriend, Lisa? Son of a bitch What happened to Rent? Long story. But I ended up humiliated and homeless. Stranded. Broke as a joke Are you serious? I needed help, came here looking for you, and ran into Carmine. Guess I got lucky Guess you did Want to hear about it? I have to tell you what that cheating son of a bitch did Lisa...I...you and Carmine...I can check with another hotel You already said you don't have anywhere to go. I know what that feels like, being stranded in another country. And you said you'd never been to London, so I know you don't know your way around, and you don't know anybody over here, so come on in, get dry and warm They paused; eyes came to me for permission This was getting out of control, but still I nodded Mrs. Jones weighed her options, realized that, like Lisa she had none, and she nodded as well I have a few things downstairs. I went to Oxford Circus. Sort of got carried away Go get your things and come on up. Show me what you bought. I'll make some coffee. You can get dry. Get warm. At least get some sleep. I don't want you homeless They hugged again And I can tell you all about Sonofabitch. That no good son of a bitch That electricity that lived inside Lisa, I saw it spark, saw it move through Mrs. Jones Smells like you've been getting your drink on too? Chateau Chasse-Spleen. Nineteen fifty-none Dang, that sounds very expensive too Only the best Well, I really don't want you walking around a strange country all tipsy and shit Smells like you've had some spirits as well Sake. Sipped me some sake. Still buzzing now. Got some left if you want some Lisa laughed and let her go Again, that small sigh escaped Mrs. Jones. She sighed and shivered the way she did when I was over her, entering her, breaking her skin and moving across her fleshy folds Lisa vanished back inside the room, disengaged the dead bolt, then the door closed and locked behind her That left me and Mrs. Jones For a moment nothing was said I waited for her to bring up her need for revenge Did you enjoy Lisa? That surprised the shit out of me Sure you want me to answer that? The look on her face...she enjoyed you You okay? I'm good, Life should be about pursuing to pleasure. I've had enough pain. Had enough tears. I only want to feel what makes me feel food for as long as it feels good You left so soon With regret. With much regret, Lisa Mack? You're made because she wasn't Polish You seduced me and slept with Lisa Mack? Lisa gave you an orgasm first...then you came to my room and took advantage of me Oh. Yeah....Oh, God Guess you forgot about that I'll never forget about that. Never. She touched some nerve...made me come on the goddamn plane. Whatever she did...the way she touched me...she made me come You came pretty good, from what I remember Mrs. Jones looked back toward the hotel door. Her gaze said she hadn't forgotten how she was on the back of the plane, writhing toward an unexpected orgasm You held my hand when she made you come. Held my hand so tight I thought you were going to rip off one of my fingers That was...unreal...On a damn plane Maybe you should break out the oils and rub Lisa down, return the favor Mrs. Jones looked at me, unsmiling, not blinking What's wrong? So, how was it with Lisa? What she lacks in experience she makes up for in enthusiasm Who was better? You With a wink I told her what she needed to hear You were. Much She lhifted, her lips curving up at the edges Wish I could've...seen her...and you...wish I could've watched The smell of coffee came from my room, wafted into the hallway We didn't go toward the elevator; I opened the door to the emergency exit and we took the stairs. We had descended to the second floor when Mrs. Jones stopped walking Can't believe I want to ask you this About the price for going after the two boys? About Lisa What about Lisa? Did you go down on Lisa? Where did that come from? When she came into the hallway...when her robe fell...did you taste her? Why don't you taste me and see Mrs. Jones faced me, kissed me, and savored my tongue like she was trying to suck every morsel of Lisa away from my flesh. Mrs. Jones pushed me back on the stairs until I sat down Did Lisa suck her pussy off this sweet dick, Carmine? She didn't get down like that Damn shame. That's a damn shame I tried to get up. She stopped me Don't get up. Not yet I looked in her eyes; saw that erotic vampire that lived inside her I've been thinking about this all day as well Lisa is waiting Lisa will be fine, Lisa will be just fine She got on her knees, slid between my legs, took me in her mouth, again stealing what Lisa had left behind. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I had used a condom. I didn't get an erection, but what she was doing to me, what she was doing in search of Lisa, it felt good The weighty metal door above us opened I looked up, expected to see Lisa in shock, staring at us, her mouth fixed to scream I saw his suit before I saw his face It all came back. Everything I was trying to ignore came back in a flash I jerked, tried to get up, but Mrs. Jones wouldn't let me go. I looked up, searching for the bandages, searching for Dom to appear ready to kill me. But he wasn't there. It was a middle-aged man. Benny Hill in a dark suit. Golden tie. Raincoat over one arm. His umbrella and briefcase over the other. He stood in silence. His breathing not audible I had grabbed Mrs. Jones's head, her beret slipped, but she refused to yield, she kept feeding. The man didn't leave. He stayed where he was. In shock. Eyes wide. Mouth tight His cell phone rang I jerked Mrs. Jones' rhythm didn't break, she didn't stop making her braids sway The man fumbled with his phone, answered, his accent crisp and cockney, told the caller he was on the way downstairs. Said that like he was irritated by the disturbance. He hung up The man came down the narrow staircase, slow steps, had to turn to get by, brushed against me, brushed against Mrs. Jones, and stumbled by us without saying good morning The man looked back up, shuddered, took slow steps, watched Mrs. Jones work The man licked his lips and moaned Mrs. Jones was massaging and sucking, sucking and stroking, performing for a crowd of one, doing that like she was in Atlanta, at the place called Trapeze, the center of attention The man readjusted his briefcase, did the same with his coat and umbrella, then he was gone down the stairs, first tiptoeing, then moving at a normal pace. London remained overcast, gray skies turned black, rain fell sideways, winds howled Inside this hollow stairwell, muffled moans and the sounds of wetness echoed Eyes blurry, the world now opaque, my hands went to the top of Mrs. Jones' beret. The sound of her mouth was wet; her determination was loud. Little moans escaped me, echoed in the stairwell Was just thinking...all day was thinking...been with one man most of my life...hadn't had fun when it came to sex...not the kind of fun that other people...Lisa...and you...wow...guess I should be jealous that you enjoyed Lisa...but I'm not...I'm not. I'm intrigued. It excites me I moved her beret, held her braids like reins, shifted so I could watch her work her magic I'm going to ask Lisa Mack to let me watch you make love to her I dare you She licked her lips Never fucking dare me... - [ * * * ] – You know, I find it weird. Ever since entering this tournament, people out-side my world, they just don’t get it. They don’t know who I am; they don’t know what I can do in the ring. Perhaps they’re not playing close enough attention, or maybe I’m just bigger than even I think? No, they’re just not paying enough attention. You see, you participants in this tournament—may not realize what I’m capable of. Fuck, after this match is all said and done, people STILL may question my talent. Well, that’s fine. Fucking idiots NEVER understand something told to them, the first time. So, if I have to beat a few fan favorites along the way? So be it, consider them beaten. Carmine shrugs his shoulders. He looks away, almost as if something hit him across the face. It was his opponent, Jaden London. He never heard of him, and the kid was as green as it gets, he couldn’t help but smile in excitement No. I didn’t get a fan favorite though. I got a rookie. A mere fucking rookie, thrown on my plate—as if whoever made these fucking brackets, expected me to eat shit. I’m passed this, I’m passed fighting rookies—that can’t even tie their own boots, and trip over their own shoe-lasses whenever they step anywhere a wrestling. This is what I have to work with? Jaden London, do you know what you’re getting into? The bubble in your stomach that tells you, you can’t? Well—that’s one smart-ass bubble, because you sure as hell can’t. You can’t match up to me, and you sure as hell can’t beat me. But hey, as long as you go out and give it your best, everything’s fine huh? You see that right there, is already a rookie mentality. If you give it your best and still manage to lose? Well, then you’re more pointless than I originally expected. When I go out to that ring and do my best? Nobody can stop me. If you give it your best and still loose—you simply aren’t good enough. You? You’re not good enough You Jaden London, are just a mere little boy. If you think you stand even the slimmest chance at beating me, you better bring a box of tooth-picks, to add weight to your statement. Matched up with a former world heavyweight champion in the first round? After you remove your back off the mat with the help of paramedics, you better be on your way, to find the person who was STUPID enough to match you up with me, and take your problems straight to them… Just make sure you put in a good word for me… Carmine winks, before smiling mockingly at the camera. He showed no attempt to hid his disrespect for his opponent, but if you knew him? That wouldn’t be much of a surprise Jaden London, a rookie making his usual rookie mistakes. Have you ever been in a match that has had so much on the line? Didn’t think so. Knowing this, you still decide you’ll match yourself up, in a national wrestling tournament to prove who is the BEST man out of a 8 person bracket? Fire your manager, because the idiot is setting you up for failure—before you have the chance, to taste your first success. But I’m sure we can find something to rant a rave about, you know so the wrestling analyses throw a good word in for you? Like, you lasted more than two minutes against, me? Or you got a few decent shots in, before you were put the down for the 3 count? There’s always a bright-side, to everything… …But not to this story. See, while you’re planning to move up the brackets—I’m the gas price, telling you, that you can’t afford this damn vacation. Pack your backs, check out the 5 star hotels early—and get your plane ticket and traveling arrangements arranged early, because you will be going down in round one. Fact. You may ask me, how can I be so sure? I mean, I can be beaten. I have been beaten. They say you can beat me, if I take you easy… Son, don’t count on that. Carmine nods his head. It’s well documented that Carmine is known for his hard-work. Although, he’s had his off nights. There was never a time, he didn’t go out fighting. No, he had more respect for the business than that I don’t take anyone easy. If I feel them coming at me hard, I’ll hit back harder. And although, you may be swinging your fists at me a bit? You will be receiving a knock-out blow, right off the bat. I don’t like you. Kid, before you start trying to stack up to the serious competitors—hit the little leagues, and strike out a bit. I wonder why, you’ve decided to step into this tournament before really getting your feet wet around these here woods, in-front of a decent sized crowd. As much as you’d all like us to believe, that you’re a bit worried about this match—there’s an ego showing like a flaming homosexual, in a clothing store. Jaden, before you even met me. The seeds of doubt were planted in your head. And now that you know me? Son, I’m the water that those seeds feed and grow off of. This game is mental just as physical—if not even more. You’ve already beaten yourself, because you know deep down that you don’t stand a chance. You can’t step into a wrestling ring, doubting your abilities! You need to know exactly what you’re capable of. I know, which is why, I can back up what I say With action. You can sit there all you want like a little bitch, doubting your abilities, with your fingers crossed hoping you have enough skill to advance past the first round. But quite frankly, it’s not about you. It’s about me. Kid, you could have stood a chance on advancing past the first round—but you were matched up with the wrong man. Trust me—your ass kicking won’t seem too bad, when I go all away and win the tournament. You just had a bad slot. That’s about all the credit, I’m giving you. You’re the kind of guy, who sits back with a thumb in his ass, thinking about the bright side of things, so I’m sure you’d take a great deal of pride in me saying that. Pathetic. Jaden London, joining this tournament was your first big career move. Your first big career move, was a stupid one. So, while you lying on your back—and the bell is rung, and your left staring up at the lights? Remember, the fucking impact! I beat into you… …Then again, I don’t think you’ll forget. CONTINUE |