If Tomorrow Never Comes (13 page)

           
Out of the fifteen rooms in the
modern brick mansion, the garden chamber was her favorite.
 
Encompassing glass windows were open to emit
the late morning warm breeze.
 
A white Polar
bear fur rug accented the multi shaded green tile floor, his opened mouth and
sharp teeth threatening to nip at any bare foot daring to tread upon him.
 
Realistic, and life size, a ceramic Bengal
Tiger guarded one corner.
  
Rockers, settees,
chairs, and glass top tables of white wicker added their share of charm.
 
Here and there as if the outdoors was a
guest, gardens bloomed, the bright flowers, potted trees, and tropical plants
in all the right places.

           
Four sets of French doors offered
access to an elaborate patio surrounding a kidney shaped pool, its turquoise
shimmering water perpetually luring Marla's attention.
 
Swimming and sun bathing maintained the body
tone and skin color that enticed her lover, occupations that consumed many a
glorious hour.
 
Providing the privacy
necessary for savoring such luxuries in the nude, tall shrubbery, blossoming
bushes and large urns crammed with colorful bouquets, circumscribed all but one
end the unobstructed portion offering a breathtaking view of Lake
Michigan.
 
Lounging in her favorite place
allowed Marla’s imagination to take on wings as though sea gulls surfing the
wind currents.

           
 
Of course, she need not worry the estate
crowning a knoll protected by, eight foot, ivy draped, concrete walls‘, and a
state of the art security system.
  
No
living thing could penetrate the lofty mansion, the perimeter surrounded by an
ostentatious iron fortress with a gate at the entrance of a coiling
driveway.
 
A guard stationed in a booth
secured access while around the clock security officers with German Shepherds
strolled the rolling five acres.

           
Butch was the only predator Marla
feared.
 
She never knew when or where
he'd appear.
 
His cat like, piercing,
eyes forever raped her as they traveled the terrains of her body.
 
She was well aware that he lurked somewhere
spying as she swam and sunbathed, that he knew every inch of her physique.
Suspicions she reported often to Scorpio only to have him laugh.
 
Butch was harmless, he said, besides, it
flattered him when other men desired what was his.
 
Butch would never dare to touch her if he did
he’d be castrated with a flick of his wrist, Scorpio’s scenario’s abruptly
ending with a reminder that there was a big difference between touching and
looking.

           
In the background, a cell phone was
ringing.
 
With the phone pressed to his
ear, Scorpio stretched out on a settee cushioned in a bright floral pattern of
green and peach.
  
A silk bathrobe of
navy and maroon stripe draped his body, the mid-calf length exposing long,
hairy, legs.
   
Freshly showered and
shaved, his raven hair slicked back he was perfection personified his expensive
perfume floating and tainting the air meant to make everyone aware of his
presence.

           
Though Marla could only hear one end
of the conversation, she knew better than to show interest.
 
Scorpios' affairs were far too dangerous to
claim any knowledge.
  
Nevertheless, as
her manicured fingers stirred the Martini hateful reflections became riveted on
the person on the other end of the connection, the snitch spying on Morgan.
 
Not liking for a minute the treacherous road
her thoughts were wandering prompting the empty, sick feeling encompassing her,
she was greatly relieved when Scorpio ended the call.
 

           
Seconds later, she heard his deep,
gravely, demanding voice, “Come here, darling.
 
I'm thirsty and very lonely.
 
You've been away from me much too long.”
      

           
Martini in hand, Marla complied.

           
Plucking her empty hand, Scorpio
pressed the soft palm to his mouth while the other retrieving the drink placed
it on the table.
 
“Sit with me, my love,”
he ordered, directing her to the space between his legs, her back against his
chest.
 

           
“You look beautiful today, darling,
you always do,” he exclaimed as one hand began exploring a breast its fingers
rolling a nipple until the bud protruded through an opening in the lace.
 
Quickly, his arousal became threatening
against her back.

           
Sipping his drink, Scorpios' fingers
continued to fondle her breast and nipple, his lips briefly resting on her
thick tresses, his breath hot upon her skull as manly hips began rhythmical
movements that heightened his excitement.
 
Marla performed like a manikin becoming lost in memories of the
past.
 
The dream cloud she was floating
on slowly turning dark and foreboding when Scorpio spoke.

           
“Can you imagine that, my
love?”
 

           
Bewildered, she innocently replied,
“What, darling?”

           
“Morgan claims he's giving me a
break for a while.”
 

           
Trying desperately to act dumb,
Marla responded, “He is?”
 

           
“You act surprised, my pet.
 
Didn't you hear the conversation?”

           
Marla knew she was being tested her
reaction measured as he purposely prodded her.
 
“You know I pay very little attention to anything that goes on around
here, “she wisely answered.

           
As if temporarily satisfied with her
reply, Scorpios' hands traveling up her arms, over her shoulders his fingers
curling around her neck paused briefly before finding her hair entwining
within.
 
As his body slowly undulated
against hers, fingers locking together allowed palms to apply pressure to her
skull.
 
“Tell me, my darling, do you
believe it?”

           
Marla could feel the dangerous part
of Scorpio threatening her.
 
“No,” she
choked out; her throat filled with fear narrowing from knowing Morgan would
never give up.
 

           
“Well, I don't either.”
 
One hand filled with hair twisting and
pulling, the other clutching Marla's shoulder turned her bringing her stomach
against his intimidating penis, movements that parted his robe revealing his
lean glorious body and intimidating shaft.
 
His mouth covered hers.
 
As he
gently sucked, his tongue forced her lips apart to allow probing the inner
depths of the warm, moist cavern.
 
Releasing her lips, an index finger replaced his tongue, an action more
like a command to suckle it.
 
Marla’s
willingness to comply closed his eyes and tilted his head backward, gasps spilled
forward.
 
Temporarily satisfied, his
hands moved to her shoulders pushing downward until her lips were even with the
part of him aching and throbbing.
  
Dutifully she began fulfilling unspoken command’s, there was no other
choice when fingers firmly clutching her head wrenching the delicate threads
focused on the moves that would soon liberate the affliction engorging his
penis.
 
Through a blur of tears, Marla
noticed a shadow move in the bushes.
 
She
knew Butch was watching and imagined what he was doing to bring himself
satisfaction.
 
Embarrassment and shame
scorched her body.

CHAPTER 14

           
The sly manipulator that she was, in
no time Margaret tunneled her way into Jordan's heart.
 
Her compassion and loving ways, warm,
cheerful apartment made it wearisome for Jordan to return to the filth and
stench of Jake's flat.
 

           
Having earned Jordan's respect,
Margaret entrusted her with the freedom to come and go between apartments
providing she returned to Jake's before he arrived each evening, a devious
arrangement they had to guard carefully.
 
Each day in return, Margaret insisted that Jordan consume at least two
nourishing meals to make up for the cold, greasy, fast food Jake brought home
nightly for supper.
     

           
Visits with Margaret became
informative, pleasant experiences that Jordan began to anticipate.
  
A host of confidences satisfied her enormous
curiosity and provided the foundation for their relationship.
 
The handsome man in the picture with Margaret
was John’s father, the one and only man in her life responsible for years of
verbal and physical abuse.
 
It was a long
awaited blessing when he ran off with a younger woman never to be heard from
again.
 
The shattering, emotional years,
were enough to last a lifetime, Margaret relented.
 
Now, old and alone, the many males who
pursued her in her younger years often came to mind leaving regrets of her
decision to remain single and independent.

           
A divorced mother raising a
seven-year old son required working two jobs to survive.
 
As if overnight, John grew up, graduated from
high school, and was in a great deal of trouble.
 
Jake was God sent.
 
Finally, her son had a decent male role
model.
 
At the time, John had a lengthy
arrest record involving drugs.
 
Jake
encouraged him to enter rehab and helped him stay out of trouble, that is,
until both began socializing at a new nightclub.
 

           
Reminiscing caused pain to streak
across Margaret's eyes, the unbearable kind that ages the face, and weakens the
heart, a visible agony that troubled Jordan, especially when, Margaret had
opened her senses to an assortment of emotions, and new revelations.
 
Finally, she’d been blessed with the
friendship of a very special woman who believed sunrises were daily chances to
chase dreams, that laughter painted sunsets, and turned rainy days into
holidays.

           
Each afternoon, close to the window,
yet far enough away to remain undetected, Jordan sat rocking, soaking up the
healing powers of the sharp summer rays, breathing in the fresh, reviving
air.
 
Listening to the melodies of the
street, and stealing glances at the phenomenal woman, she assimilated
Margaret's beliefs.
 
A woman void of idle
moments so occupied was she taking up stitches in shattered hearts.

           
Though Jordan strived to see the
beauty of the sunset through Margaret's eyes, she knew, with certainty, it
signaled the time had come to return to Jake's apartment where dread devoured
her from having to deal with Morgan a time when she missed Margaret the most.
 
To her humiliation, Margaret's stories were
reminders she had no memories to share with anyone.
 
Twenty-one years had come and gone like the
seasons, filled to the brim, and frothing over, with unspeakable secrets'.
  

           
Tonight, once inside Jake’s
apartment, the clicking latch brought reflections of him.
 
Leaning against the wooden door, she thought
about their times together how they'd go on their missions night after night
returning just before dawn.
 
How he'd be
gone before she woke habits convincing her he never slept, or ate.
 

           
The nightly tasks were the only
times they spent together, hours when he incessantly battered her with barking
orders later justifying his actions by keeping his end of their bargain by
showering.
 
Nevertheless, his unkempt
hair, beard, and earring remained and his odious moods never wavered.

           
The first morning she woke in his
bed Jordan was furious and unnerved.
 
In
time, as the occurrences continued, the soft, lumpy, mattress, the warmth of
the covers carefully tucked around her became comforting.
 
Although she had no memories of how she got
there, she knew he was responsible. Why he placed her there each evening after
falling asleep on the floor, she often wondered.
 
Possibly a ploy to make her feel guilty about
the inconvenience and discomfort she was causing him.
 
Well, it wasn't working.