“I … think so. Fuck me, this day is one of my lowest, and that’s saying something, you’ve seen some of the women I have to help stretch-out during warm-ups.” I smiled; it was a good way to hold back my own tears.
She smiled too. It didn’t hold hers back. “Do you promise you’ll never tell anyone what we did here?”
“I promise.”
“Do you promise you’ll never think of this day again?”
“I … I doubt that will happen.”
“Brad,” she was stern. “I need you to promise. Do you promise you’ll never think of this day again?”
“I promise I won’t think about parts of this day again.”
Her brow furrowed. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I’ll clarify … I promise I’ll never think of us killing that man again, but I don’t promise I won’t think of you holding me.” A tear rolled down my cheek. My emotions were all over the place, just like Bobby’s brain.
“Okay … I promise I won’t think of us killing that man again too, but I don’t promise I won’t think of my hero and what I’m about to do.”
“What are you about to … ”
My question was cut short as she pressed her lips to mine and held my face there. There was no escape, but even if there were, I wouldn’t have taken it. My heart was somehow able to beat faster at that moment than it had during the whole incident.
She pulled away. “Okay, here’s the plan. We find something to put the body in, if it doesn’t fit, we cut him into little pieces, some place we can easily clean up the mess. We definitely need to cut off his fingers, so his prints won’t be with the body and we make sure we remove all his teeth, so no dental records can identify him either.
“We dump the body at the old abandoned docks, in the water, and we drive as far from it as possible, maybe out of town, to dump the fingers and teeth. We could stay in a motel, make a little vacation out of it, then if the police speak to us, we could say we went for a weekend full of sex and romance, it can be our cover story.”
I just stood silent, my mouth hung open, trying to take in all she was saying. I was in shock. How did she know to do all that stuff? I also felt more than a little sickened by the prospect of cutting up a dead body, removing fingers and teeth and what have you. For someone who had fought professionally in the squared-circle I wasn’t fond of blood.
“I’m in shock,” I said. “How do you know all this stuff? And I also feel more than a little sickened by the prospect of cutting up a dead body, removing fingers and teeth. I might have fought professionally in the squared-circle but I’m not fond of blood.”
“Don’t be anxious, Brad.” She gave me a quick kiss. “It will be fun. It’s a hell of a first date, isn’t it?” She smiled, looked almost giddy.
I was so confused. “Date?” I can’t believe that’s what I questioned at that moment.
“Have you gone shy on me?”
“I …”
“You’re so cute. A bashful white knight.”
“I … you still haven’t answered my question.”
She gave me another quick kiss. “And what was that?”
“How do you know how to do all this stuff?”
“Movies, Brad. Don’t you ever watch them?”
“Yeah, but …”
“Don’t concern yourself with the details. Just follow my lead, okay?”
“Okay.” It was half question, half answer, full bewilderment.
“First things first, do you have anymore lessons booked or today?”
“I wish.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do. I’m short of cash, remember?”
“No, you don’t, not today. If you did we’d have to call them and cancel, it wouldn’t be beneficial for us if someone was to show up, expecting to get their sweat on, to see us hacking up a dead body, would it?”
“Yeah, sorry, you’re right.” I don’t know what was happening to me. It was like the hamster spinning the wheel that powered my brain had rolled over and died.
“Do you have any tools here?”
“Yeah, some, in my office.”
“What have you got? Do you have a hammer, a saw, something we can cut with, and bash with? Maybe pliers too, they might make removing the teeth that little bit easier.”
“I think I should have them.”
“Good.” She thought for a moment, tapping a finger on her chin. Then, “what about bags, something to put the fucker in?”
“I have a new punching bag that’s still in its packaging, it was delivered in a large canvas bag. It’s all in my office too, I dump all kinds of shit in there.”
“That’s perfect. Please tell me it’s the large sized punching bag.” She was bouncing on the heels of her feet, her hands clasped together in front of her chest.
“It is.”
“That’s excellent, it really is. Everything is coming together.” She gave us both a little round of applause.
“Why’s it excellent?”
“The bag will be big enough to fit our victim in, without us having to chop him up, that’s handy, isn’t it? Plus, it won’t look strange when we carry it to my car, a martial arts teacher leaving a gym with a punching bag-shaped object doesn’t attract unwanted attention.”
“That is helpful, but don’t refer to Bobby as a victim, that makes us sound like serial killers.”
She took hold of my hand. “Sorry, yeah that does make it sound kinda yucky. What do you think we should call him? How about our enemy?”
“That’s fine with me.”
“That’s settled then. We’ll call him our enemy from now on. Let’s go in the office and get the equipment, then we’ll carry our enemy into the bathroom, it will be easier to clean up the mess from the fingers and teeth in there, since it has a titled floor and all.”
“Sara?”
“Yes,” she said as she tore her eyes from the bathroom door to look into my own.
“I hope this doesn’t sound weird but …”
“But?”
“I’d not want to do this with anyone else but you.” I smiled.
She smiled. “That is so sweet.” She kissed me again; that one was longer lasting than the others and with deeper tongue action. When she’d pulled away she said, “to the Batcave, Robin.”
“To the Batcave, Batman … Hold on, I’m the sidekick?”
She dragged me into the office, which was a mess; everything was piled up at one side of the room, apart from the desk, which was covered in unopened letters.
“Before we go rummaging through your tidy office for our equipment,” she said. “Why don’t we fuck?”
I coughed. “Pardon?”
“On the desk or the floor, both are good with me. Your choice.”
“Sara, what’s come over you?”
She raised her eyebrows. “How do you mean?”
“You’ve changed, somehow.” It was like a different person was standing in front of me, since I’d dealt with our enemy, since she’d finished that deal with her own foot, she’d gone through a strange transformation. At first she’d looked repulsed, sickened, not excited, horny even.
“I’ve not changed, I’ve just … Could I tell you a story?”
“I guess so.”
“In college I’d never really spoken to a guy. Never held hands with a guy. Never kissed a guy. I’d never really brushed past any. Okay, once, which leads me into my story.”
I found that hard to believe. I thought maybe she was a late bloomer. Those guys would be kicking themselves if they saw her now.
“He was pretty hot. Who am I kidding, he was very hot, even on a cold day, and my heart was almost beating out of my chest when it happened. My breasts were rising and falling at an accelerated rate, my breathing was that quick and shallow. It was ridiculous the affect it had. It was like I was having a silent asthma attack, but you know, without the asthma.”
I started to feel a little jolt of jealousy run through me. Knowing she was so attracted to the guy really affected me. It shouldn’t have, it wasn’t like we were seeing each other, and it was in the past, but it did. Everything about the situation I was in was heightening every emotion.
“I’m sure I caught the teacher looking at my fast moving boobage. He might have just been concerned for my health because of my hastened breathing. My breasts were pretty big back then, well they still are, they haven’t shrunk, my shirt was white, so you could maybe see the outline of my bra underneath, so maybe he was having a good look. Is it wrong I wished he was?”
I know I’d have been looking, is that wrong? Most likely, since most of my decisions turned out to be just that ... wrong.
“So why was my heart beating so fast from just brushing past a boy? One: I’d brushed past a boy. I was so shy back then I’d dodge that situation normally, once even falling over a bag when I did. Two: my hand had brushed over his penis. I had touched a cock. WAHOO! I think that was the first time I had ever gotten fully aroused. I was late to the game, I understand that.”
I swallowed, hard. Jealousy was turning to desire.
“I sat in class, trying to control my breathing, reliving the moment over and over again in my head; that’s when I got a tingle. You know, between my legs, in my special flower. I did in fact call it that back then. I crossed my legs over a few times. I now had a throb. The leg crossing felt good, no question.”
I was starting to have a throb myself. Blood was pumping.
“The feeling I had when I was crossing my legs was like when I’d wait in line for my dinner, both hands holding my tray, my nose itchy. I’d have to wait until I got to the end of the line and was paying before I could scratch it. But when I did, it felt great. But it wouldn’t have felt so good if not for the buildup.”
I felt like I was in that very same buildup phase she was describing. I was hoping I would get the completion needed or the current torment would have been worthless.
“The leg crossing was a tease, the dinner line, it wasn’t enough to satisfy the want I had, the itch, but it helped. Then with my legs crossed, and stationary, I began to slowly rub my thighs together. That felt even better than the leg crossing. I had to do it slowly though, I didn’t want anyone to notice I was getting off on it, and I knew I was, not just because of the feeling, but because my underwear was getting moist. Something I hadn’t felt before, but kinda knew what it meant from overhearing other people talk about it.”
It was like I was a Peeping Tom. As if I shouldn’t be hearing what she was talking about. I didn’t want to shut it out though. I wanted to hear every word, to lock them away for another more private time. Just like a Peeping Tom wants to see every inch, to lock away that for his lonely moments.
“The rubbing, now lubricated, heightened the sensation my thighs were already creating in my special place. I have to admit; it was also very sexy knowing there was heaps of people around but all of them unaware of what I was doing; such a turn on. I didn’t know I was masturbating. I didn’t really know what it was. I’d never touched myself down there, in an erotic way. I still wasn’t at that point. That didn’t matter though. It was so … yummy. That might seem like a nonsensical way to describe it, but I did lick my lips at one point, the lips that belong to my mouth; I’m not that bendy.”
I smiled as she did. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She had me rooted to the spot. Every muscle in me had gone tense. I was feeling tautness somewhere else too.
“I was getting warm, not listening to the words the teacher was saying, looking at him when the feeling was intensifying, trying to meet eyes. It felt so wrong, so naughty, so right, and so fucking nice. My body started to twitch a little. Little spasms of satisfaction of the likes I’d never felt before.
“A leg stiffened. I felt something approaching, like I was about to itch that spot I wanted to. Like all my efforts were about to be rewarded. RING. The fucking bell went. I was in a world of my own. So much so I fell off my chair, the front legs had risen during my escapades. I was on the floor. Everyone laughed. Even the teacher laughed. I regretted looking at him while I was, while I was, well, I guess masturbating.”
I needed her. I had to have her. I should have been focusing on what I had to do with Bobby’s body, but all I could think about was what I had to do to hers.
“As I lay on the floor, two things popped into my head. One: I hoped my skirt hadn’t flown up. I didn’t want anyone to see my soaked panties. Two: if only I had another minute or so. I didn’t know what would have happened in that time but I was sure it would have been frigging awesome …
“I stood up. Took in all the laughing faces. They looked distorted. They were elongated in length, horselike, but much bendier, less rigid, waving like a mirage might do.”
I furrowed my brow. The story was taking a surreal turn. I was clueless as to the destination it was heading toward.
“The sound of the sniggers, chuckles, chortles, the hysterics if you like, were also not behaving in the parameters of a sane perception. They were fuzzy to me, cotton candy plugging my ears, a bad transmission over a CB radio in a long-haul truck with the window rolled down, the wind flapping its gusts into the cabin, popping and bopping on my eardrums like a dub-step beat-drop with the gain turned way too high.”
I got angry. Pissed that they’d laughed at her so much. I wanted to travel back in time, protect her from them, and erase her embarrassment.
“The laughs were crackling in me, creating an itch somewhere in my head, deep enough that even a coat hanger through an ear wouldn’t be long enough to reach. Little sonic eruptions exploding in my brain, removing what I thought I was, what I had been taught to be, stripping me down to nothing but primal urges, primitive compulsions.”