Elliot Mabeuse (16 page)

She laughed and screamed and fought with me and I fought with her and once again my sense of what I was doing and what was real totally left me. Somehow I ended up sitting on my ass and she was straddling me and her tits were soft and warm against my chest and she was kissing me and urging me on with her tongue and her body and the sounds she made. Then somehow I had her down on all fours with that wet dress pushed up around her chest and I was kneeling behind her with my pants around my

thighs, leaning over her, kissing and biting her back and milking her tits like she was an animal.

The rain was dripping from her hair and her lips were red as blood and the water was dripping from her lips and running down her ribs and dripping like milk from her nipples too.

"Oh yes! Yes, Conner! Give it to me! Make me your whore! Do it to me! Fuck me, Conner! Fuck me!"

I raised my head and looked around at the little park drenched with rain and the lampposts standing like silent witnesses. The van was down there with the blinkers on and at any moment someone might come to investigate. The patch of grass we were in was soft and wet and we'd already churned it up into a puddle of mud with our thrashing and Emma was kneeling in mud and had mud splattered on her body. She was shivering and her skin was covered with goose bumps and the water was steaming where it splattered against her skin. She was humping her ass at me, grinding it like she was some barnyard animal, naked out in the rain and the muck and the mud.

I think I growled as I grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her down into the grass—pushed her tits down into the mud and the wet grass and held her bent down like that, ass-up, slavelike before me as I took my dick and parted her folds with it and punched it into her hot crease and heard her snarl with feral satisfaction.

Yeah, I knew what she wanted. I knew exactly what she wanted—that raw, hot cock, the one hard, warm thing in this cold, wet world—and I rammed it deep, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back onto it, stabbing her with it as she dug her fingers

into the muddy dirt and screamed again in savage bliss. She was hotter than hell inside—hot and tight and already trembling on the verge of orgasm.

"Oh fuck, Emma! Fuck!!"

I stared down at her in disbelief as that sweet soothing rain fell down upon us both, soaking us to the bone. Already Emma was rolling her ass in tight little circles, egging me on, begging me to unload inside her, begging me to get rough with her and let her have it, her sweet little tongue peeking from between her white teeth.

"Fuck your bitch, Conner! Fuck her like a slut! Take me, you bastard! Ride me good and let everyone see!"

I didn't know what she wanted. I didn't know what kind of crazy thoughts went through her head. All I could do was take what I wanted, do what I wanted, and that's what I did.

I awkwardly got up on my feet with my prick still inside her. I spread her cheeks apart so I could see my dick piercing her body and her labia stretched in protest around it, see the raindrops gliding down the slopes of her ass. I reached out and grabbed her hair—grabbed a big handful in each hand like they were a pair of reins—and used them to pull her head back, making her arch her back and thrust her tits out like she was the figurehead on some boat cutting its way through this dark, rainy park. Then I started riding her, slamming my dick into her, fucking her so fast and hard I could hear her tits sloshing on her chest, hear her breathing cut into a series of involuntary animal grunts by the slapping blows of my belly against the meat of her ass, fucking her so fast I could

feel the heat of the friction of my cock moving in her tight sheath and the wild swinging of my heavy balls as they slapped wetly against her turgid clit.

And finally it was too much. Finally she couldn't take the force of my blows and she collapsed, fell face down in the mud and the cold grass and I had to pull her up and hold her against me, hold her pressed against me as I punched my dick up into her and squeezed her tits and shot my load straight up into her sopping pussy.

"Oh!" she sighed as I came. "Oh!"

That's all. She turned her face up to the sky and pressed her hand down so she could feel my cock where it entered her body and feel the semen jet along my urethra, as if she wanted to make sure it got there safely, as if this whole thing were about me.

I sat there and held her, and when I let her go, she was shivering.

"Cold?" I asked.

"God! Freezing."

"Yeah. It's cold." I didn't move.

"Conner? Can we go? I'm really cold now."

"In a minute." I looked around at the falling rain. "You were right. It is pretty here.

A nice place to stop."

We were both of us soaked to the skin.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know what got into me. I just had this sudden urge to run. To escape. I guess those thoughts depressed me. Can we go now?"

Chapter Eight

Emma was quiet the rest of the drive into town but perked up as we exited the expressway and started driving through the city. The rain had stopped and as we neared my neighborhood, things started feeling more urban—the buildings, the lights and neons and action in the streets—and pretty soon she was sitting up and looking around.

I wasn't exactly angry with her but I was a bit guarded, and I felt better that we were at last on my turf. Running from me in the rain had probably been no more than a little tease—a way to provoke my lust—but it had reminded me of the trickiness of the game we were playing and of the difficulty of trying to decide what was real and what was pretend.

It also brought to mind something that had been simmering in the back of my mind about this relationship, the old consumer warning—beware of deals that seem too good to be true because they usually are. So far Emma had given me everything I'd wanted while taking little in return, and while it was possible she was in this just for the sex, I was beginning to doubt it. I was beginning to sense some shadows moving behind the veil.

I pulled off the expressway and the tires splashed in the potholes full of water as we hit the city streets. Emma stretched. The ride had been boring and I was bored too.

My neighborhood's known as Chinatown North but it's not Chinese it's Vietnamese and so it's also called Little Saigon. It's close to the lake—officially known as Lakeview. Back in the 's, it was a very nice area with big apartment buildings and

lots of shopping and a couple of huge ornate movie palaces and the El—which was new then—running right along Broadway, straight downtown. It had become a slum in the

''s and stayed that way ‘til the Chinese and Vietnamese started colonizing in the 's, and it still had the feel of an immigrant ghetto in parts—a weird, eclectic mix of all sorts of people. But now the gentrifiers and developers had smelled money and construction barricades were going up. You could still find some good, reasonable places, though, and the neighborhood itself was full of little jewels—great restaurants and tiny bakeries, weird herb shops huddled under the El tracks next to hi-end boutiques and rehabbed deco buildings next to brand new blister-pack condos.

I'd been here for seven years now and it was home to me.

Even after that deluge there were still people out—always people here, going out to eat, to and from the El, standing outside smoking, hanging around in little doorways getting some air—and it felt kind of good after the drive from the suburbs. The streets looked slick and shiny with the reflected neons, the little Chinese groceries blinking cryptically in the dark.

Emma stared out the windows with guarded fascination, the lights shining on her face, and she looked beautiful. I couldn't tell what she made of it, and I wasn't sure how I felt. On the one hand, I was glad there was so much activity. On the other, I'd kind of hoped I would have had her to myself. I didn't want to have to compete for her attention.

"Oh wow," she said as we drove by a bus stop. "Look at him. That guy's nuts."

He was. Some tall thin man in a tattered Cubs jacket was yelling "Fuck Youuuu!"

at the top of his lungs and throwing both arms up in an exuberant double bird at the moon.

"Yeah, well… You see that occasionally around here. Cubs play today?"

She shook her head and we drove on. I knew she wasn't exactly comfortable in the city and I was trying to make things easy on her. There were a lot of weird characters in this neighborhood.

I pulled down Carmen and took the alley running in front of a viaduct covered with graffiti from the Ghost Tiger gang and Insane Gangster Nation and others. Some Viet boys glared at the lights, hid their joint and gave me the finger. The alley led to an enclosed parking lot behind Lakeview Hardware and the Three Happiness Restaurant, and here I parked the van, where the air smelled like hot garlic and sesame oil. We could hear the sizzle of water hitting a hot wok, oriental music from a radio and the distant roar of the El.

Emma rummaged around in her bag and started to pull out her phone, then stuffed it back in. She took out a silver bracelet and glanced at it, then pushed that back into the bag too.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Nothing. A watch."

"A watch? Can I see it?"

She sighed unhappily, retrieved it and handed it to me. It was a very handsome watch, the band made of brushed silver, the watch face a deep, featureless blue,

slightly iridescent, and covered with a thick crystal dome. It was very masculine in a very feminine way.

"Why don’t you wear it?"

"I don’t want to. It reminds me of a ring."

I looked at her. "But it's a watch."

She took it back and put it in her bag. "It's round. It goes around me. It's almost the same thing. I don't like it." She looked around. "Where are we? Are we here?"

"Oh. Yeah, we're here. Almost. Come on, it's just around front. I'll show you."

She took her bag and I locked up.

Carmen's a side street running right off Broadway in the heart of Little Saigon, lined with shops—groceries, noodle shops, dry cleaners, a little pharmacy—all local, all jammed together. I live upstairs above First Service Auto Parts and as we walked down the street, the rich, foody smells from the front of Three Happiness suddenly reminded me of how hungry I was. I was cold too, soaked to the skin from being out in the rain.

Emma stopped by the window of Ho Ho's grocery, transfixed by the roast ducks hanging there illuminated by the blue neon sign. "Those things still have their heads!"

"Come on, Emma. I'm freezing."

"Do they eat the heads?" She looked at me.

"Come on." I grabbed her arm when a voice accosted me.

"Hey Conner, man! How you doing? "

Jimmy Vu stepped out of the doorway of Ho Ho's, wearing his green fatigue jacket and drinking a juice box. Jimmy's uncle owned First Service Auto Parts and he was always around. He was a big Baby Huey kind of guy with a bad buzz cut that made him look like a baby chick.

"Hey Jimmy." I saw right away his eyes fixed on Emma. The straw of his juice box stayed in his mouth but didn't move. I smiled. I don't know that he'd ever seen me with a woman before, at least, not one like Emma.

"Emma, this is Jimmy Vu. He knows everyone in this neighborhood and can fix anything, right Jimmy? If you're ever in trouble, Jimmy's the man to see."

This was total bullshit. Jimmy does know everyone and is a very sweet guy but he's totally ineffectual, but I knew Jimmy would like it, and he was clearly knocked out by Emma.

He shifted hands so he could keep the juice box in his mouth and still shake.

"Pleased to meet you." he said.

"Pleased to meet you, Jimmy." I knew Emma was embarrassed by how she looked.

"We got caught in the rain," I said. "Terrible. Almost drowned. Clinging to tree limbs, houses washing by in the tumultuous flood. We thought we were goners. Got to go change before we both get pneumonia. Excuse us, Jimmy."