Her silhouette moved across the room, got on top of my bed.
I took my glasses off, took off my tie, eased toward the bedroom, taking my time.
“Get naked, Driver. Hurry.”
“What’s the rush?”
“Wolf will be looking for me.”
I took off my suit, all my clothes, dropped them where I was.
“Be honest, Driver. You want me in your bed every night.”
I nodded, gave in and admitted my strong desire for her. Her lips were full and wet.
“Come here. I want to take you in my mouth.”
I let her feed. Then I got in the bed with her, touched her between her thighs; her sex was like Seattle in April. Ran my fingers over her backside and the curve in her hips, her small waist.
Her body was Panther’s body.
Lisa said, “Do me every way you can imagine.”
Whatever you want.
“Beat your chest, sex me the way I deserve to be sexed, do it nonstop.”
Whatever it takes.
“Get your manumit. Come get your manumit.”
Then she laughed. Her voice turned British and African, like Folasade.
Her knees moved away from each other, showed me her gloom.
She said, “One moment I want to kill you, then ... then ... I want to feel you inside me.”
I gave her everything she wanted.
She groaned. “This. Was. All. You. Had. To. Do.”
Over and over I entered my friend’s wife like this pussy was mine for the taking.
My friend. No. My former friend.
Lisa owned a barbaric expression, that desperate look that came when the orgasm felt so good. She tumbled into that ecstasy, held the sheets like she was trying to break her fall. She trembled, her back arched. I fucked her hard, showed no mercy, yanked her back into me over and over. A thousand waves passed through her. She kept jerking. Like I was stunning her.
My big hands went around her little neck. I choked her as hard as I could. No matter how hard I choked her, all she did was smile. Smiled and sang and came over and over.
Little by little, I came to. Half a sense at a time. My eyes felt like they were swollen, glued shut. They opened and I saw nothing, an endless blackness deeper than death.
Everything came back to life. Everything hurt from my head wound to my ankles.
I was in the fetal position. The small space I was in was cramped. Felt like I had been beaten and tossed in the Adjustment Center. There was a lot of bouncing, like I was riding a coffin down a bumpy road. Then my hearing came back. Loud music. Couldn’t move my hands. Or my feet. Something over my head. Could hardly breathe.
Other cars roared.
More bumps. Each one hurt to go over. She was taking me down Route 666.
Lisa said, “He’s moving.”
“Just the car shifting him around. That motherfucker out.”
I was in the trunk of that Deuce. Large trunk. Bad suspension. The smell, the way the engine roared, and the way it rode told me that. They needed shocks and the brakes squealed like they were fifty thousand miles overdue for new pads. The stench of spilled oil and dust and battery acid thickened and poisoned the little musty air I could get.
“Maybe I should check on him.”
“Lisa, relax. He ain’t going nowhere.”
The car stopped. Somebody pulled up next to us, music loud enough to send the vibrations through me. The music moved ahead of my prison, bumping hard and fading fast.
Chest rising and falling, air thin, I tried not to panic, but that claustrophobic feeling had me terrified. Had to think. In The Hole. I was back in The Hole, a place where seconds moved like hours. Every vehicle that passed, its noise was on the left. We didn’t pass anybody, not that I could tell. I was on my right side. My own sweat became a river that flooded my right ear. All I knew was that the car I was in kept to the slow lane, maybe doing the speed limit, maybe a little over, had bad shocks, needed a new muffler, and was trying not to draw any attention.
Sweat puddled in my eyes. I struggled, kicked. Wrists were tied in front of me. Something was wrapped tight around my knees, cut off my circulation. Lisa didn’t tie me up. I wasn’t hog-tied LAPD style. I kicked my feet. What covered my mouth muffled my yelling.
“Lisa, I’m going to pull over so you can zap his ass again. ”
“Not yet. Have to be careful. Don’t want his heart to give out.”