Kill Whitey

Sondra began massaging my shoulders. Her fingers kneaded muscles that I hadn’t even known were sore. Her breasts brushed against my back. Her nipples were stiff. So was I. She continued rubbing. The tension drained out of me. Gently, she pulled me down. Her face hovered inches away from mine. And then we kissed. She winced a little and I remembered her split lip.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized.

“Is okay. You are good to take care of me.”

I nodded, too stunned to speak.

“I wish I could stay here,” she said. “Is nice. My apartment is not this nice. You must have good job.”

“Not really.”

She kissed me again. This time, I made sure not to brush against her cut. Her fingers worked their way down my chest, then slipped beneath my shirt and caressed my stomach.

“You are in good shape. What do you do for living? You are not police. Maybe you are in the army, no? Or maybe you are under the cover police?”

I chuckled. Her hands glided up to my chest. It felt good. She toyed with my chest hair, twirling it in her fingers.

“No,” I said, “nothing like that. I’m a dock worker. I work for GPS—Globe Package Service, over in Lewisberry. Darryl and I both work there. That’s who he had to call a little while ago.”

“Oh.” There was a slight hint of disappointment in her voice.

“Why?” I asked. “Does it matter?”

“You seem like dangerous man. The good kind of dangerous. Not bad kind. Like you can protect, no?”

“I can protect you.”

“You can fight?”

“Sure. I can kick ass when I need to.”

And I meant it, too. I hadn’t been in a fight since the seventh grade, when I popped Glen Lehman in the mouth because he stole my Moon Knight comic and gave it to his little brother. The fight was a draw. I’d been in close calls since then—shoving matches and stare downs. But no fists. No beatings. Truth was, I didn’t know if I could stomp some ass or not, but lying there in Sondra’s arms, I felt like I could.

Sondra gently squeezed my nipples and I grew harder than I’d ever been in my life.

“Could you kill?” Her breath was hot on my neck.

I nodded. “Yeah. If I had to, I could kill.”

“You could kill Whitey?”

She slipped a hand into my pants and squeezed my cock. I groaned. Her pouting, glossy lips glistened in the dark. Her eyes were sad. So was her voice.

“Larry,” she pleaded, “you will kill Whitey?

“If he comes after us.”

“You can kill him?”

“Yes,” I said. “If he tries to hurt us, I can kill him.”

“Easy to say. Harder to do. Many have tried.”

“He’s just a man.”

Instead of responding, she kissed me a third time. Both hands cradled my erection, kneading it through my pants.

“Damn…” My breath hitched in my chest.

Sondra nuzzled my ear. “And speaking of hard…”

She slipped off her silken clothes and then slipped off mine. I stared at her in the light. The sight of her beauty took my breath away. I’d watched her all those times on stage, seen every private part of her, and pretended that she was dancing only for me, but this was different. She was here now. Not fantasy, but flesh. Sondra was sharing herself with me and me alone. No one else could be a part of this.

“You like?” she purred.

“Yeah,” I said. “I like.”

We made love then, and despite the fact that I’d been shot at, and we were hiding from the mob, and one of my best friends was in the other room, and my cat was scratching at the bedroom door, and that I didn’t know her and didn’t have any condoms and we both had coffee breath—despite all of that—it was absolutely the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had happen to me. It was tender and slow and passionate and fun. It wasn’t sex. Wasn’t fucking. This was something different. We took our time with each other, forgot about everything else and just surrendered. I didn’t know if she really liked me or expected to be paid when we were done or was just rewarding me for saving her life—and in truth, I didn’t give a shit. It was too perfect to ruin with thoughts and fears and misgivings.

Here’s a little fact about guys that you might not know. Men fantasize, too. We don’t just want porno movie sex. Yes, we may be primarily visual creatures, but we’ve got feelings, too. We want to love and be loved. We just don’t admit that shit out loud. But yeah, we want to be wanted. Loved. And lying there, holding Sondra in my arms as we moved together, our bodies touching, our mouths locked, our hearts beating—I felt loved. I’d never felt anything like it before and I didn’t want it to end.

Not ever.

And for that brief moment, it didn’t. Time stopped. The only two things in the universe were me and her. Nothing else mattered.

Until the gunshot.

ten

Ecstasy.

Sensation.

Vibration.