The Donor: When Conception Meets Deception (14 page)

"I said in here.” She pats the bulge of the black alligator bag, dangling from a gold chainlink strap, against her hip.

“Uhhh…not quite sure where you’re going with that question but we can—“

Vicky flips the clasp of the bag open, sticks her hand inside, pulls it back out and fires…

“BANG BANG BANG,” she cries out.

Chase dives to his right. Andrea jumps out from the hidden entrance behind Vicky. Just as Andrea is about to intervene, Vicky grabs her stomach and cackles with laughter. She stammers, holding her gut, pointing and howling at Chase.

“Oh—My—Ha, Ha, Ha—God, Oh My Guh-Guh-God. Wait—Oh—My—-Ha—Wait a minute. Whoo Hoo. You should see your face. You are scared shitless," Vicky says.

Chase is furious. Andrea seeing that no real danger has transpired snakes back into her hiding place, unnoticed.

"Are you insane? That shit’s funny to you?" Chase screams.

“Aww, come on," she says.

She clicks her heels over to Chase, grabs his shoulders and starts shaking him.

”Come on. Loosen up.”

She shakes him again. Chase grabs her wrists.

“Okay that's enough. Joke over," he says.

"It's called an ice breaker grumpy, grump, grump,” Vicky says.

She snatches her arms away and pirouettes.

Is this chick for real? Damn that Eugene.

"What did you just say?" Vicky says

"Huh? Say?" Chase replies.

Damn. Did I slip up and say what I was just thinking?

“Ha, gotcha,” Vicky says. She pokes her bony index finger into Chase's armpit. He recoils.

“Oh…ticklish huh? Tickle, tickle, tickle Chase. Tickle, tickle, tickle Chase,” she says with a psychotic grin, trying to finger her digits into his side. He shrinks away.

It is at this point that Chase notices how Vicky’s accent causes her to pronounce the name Chase like the word
chess
.

"You have a unique voice," he says.

She takes it as a compliment although, technically, it is not.

"Why thank you. Most people think it is Russian," she says.

"Oh no, it’s definitely not Russian," Chase says, acting as if he would know.

"Oh you noticed. You impress me. But most people cannot figure out the accent and so they start shouting out the stupid countries like Austria. Do I sound like The Terminator? Seriously? Or they say something really stupid like Poland. Poland? Only whores come from Poland.”

Chase lets out a loud snicker. He knows Andrea can hear this conversation. Andrea’s surname, Lisi, is Polish. The family's original name being Lis. As Andrea tells the story it was an immigration agent at Ellis Island who misheard her great-grandfather’s reply. He wrote Lisi instead of Lis on the intake form. And that would be the family name from that moment on.

"I like you Chess. You understand. I am a proud Estonian. A sexy little country," she says.

She slides her hands down the unremarkable curves of her hips. Chase doesn’t respond.

"You don't think I'm sexy?" she asks with a frown.

"Oh no, of course...You're quite nice."

"Nice?"

"Nice and sexy," he says.

He forces a smile and clears his throat.

"Hey, I hope you like Pinot Noir. I took the liberty of pouring us two glasses before you came in,” he says.

“Pinot Noir? No malt liquor?” she says.

Chase raises his left eyebrow. He brushes the comment aside and walks over to the bookshelf to retrieve the wine glasses. His fingers cup the underside of the long stem tumblers. The glasses wobble from his nervousness. He tries to mask his trembling by quickly handing the glass of wine to her. Chase takes a soft sip from his own. Vicky wastes no time with hers as she chugs it down like soda pop. She then lifts her glass in the air for the last drops to drip onto her long canine length tongue. The alcohol moistens her lips and gathers at the corners of her mouth. Without warning she grabs Chase’s hand, sucks on his fingers and wipes her mouth with his palm. Chase snatches his hand back making a face as if he just smelled something foul. He wipes Vicky’s saliva on his sleeve. He tries to shift the energy of the room.

“So, how long have you been living in the States?" he asks.

Vicky looks about the living room, takes a step, and peeks down the hall towards Andrea’s bedroom.

“We don’t need small talk, Chess. Is that the bedroom?”

Chase's eyebrows bounce up. He knows what he is supposed to be doing but Vicky's assertive nature is in stark contrast to what he expected. It is unnerving.

“Umm, sooo hey are you hungry? What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t offer you—“

“Oh I am hungry. But not for food,” Vicky says.

She walks down the hall.

"Is it this way? Come along
Chess
.”

Vicky disappears into the bedroom. Chase's mind is a swirl. He paces in front of the sofa.

Psst…Psst…Psst.

Andrea pops her head out from behind the bamboo panel.

"What the hell are you doing? Get in the bedroom," she whispers.

“Andrea this chick is looney tunes. I'm not going in there with her," he says.

“Lower your voice…and yes you are. Get in there. Get it over with. Get the money and you'll be one step closer to getting Eugene off your back.”

"This isn't easy Andrea.”

"Stop your bitching Chase. Women have been having sex with Men when they didn’t want to for centuries. So it’s time for you to
woman up
.”

Chase attempts to protest but she shushes him.

“Chess…oh Chess,” Vicky says from the bedroom. “Come boy. Come.”

“Boy? Come
boy
? Did you just hear that? This is the second, suspect comment, she’s made. You heard that malt liquor reference?” he says.

“Oh stop making something out of nothing. She’s just being European. They talk weird.”

“Yeah, I bet you didn’t say that when she called your Polish people a bunch of whores.”

“Dude, just go handle your business. Go. Shoo fly shoo,” Andrea says.

She fans her palms in the air towards the bedroom and disappears behind the panel. Chase tries to psyche himself up for the task at hand:

Okay it's just a task.

Think of this like a job.

It's not something you want to do.

You’re being forced so you’re not really cheating on Jenae.

Yeah…that’s it. You have no choice. Just, just go get it over with.

He marches down the hall to the bedroom door. It’s closed. He blows on his hands, rubs his palms together, turns the knob and enters. The air is floral and spicy. The odor of bergamot and sandalwood from the burning candles fills the bedroom. Chase glances at the bed to find it empty with the exception of a large white envelope on the pillow. He looks around the room but Vicky isn’t present. Andrea’s room is large, cavernous in fact, but it isn’t a maze. He stomps to the master bathroom. He flicks the light on but it is empty. He even checks the shower.

Is this crazy chick actually hiding somewhere? Seriously?

"Vicky, Vicky" Chase calls out. “Come on Vicky this is ridiculous.”

He picks the envelope up from the bed and sits on the mattress. He opens the flap and peers inside. It is stuffed with ten stacks of rubber banded $100 bills.
Wow, Eugene was right about that much. She is paying alot.

“Look, the only other place you could be is in the closet okay? So just stop playing around.”
Ugh, this chick’s actually going to make me get up and walk over to the clos
—just as he rises from the mattress he hears a metallic clank, followed by cold steel clamp on his right ankle. He looks down to see a thin pale arm retreat underneath the bed.

“Vicky? What the hell is this? Handcuffs?”

A witch’s cackle shrieks from under the bed.

Chase tries to step away but cannot. Vicky has handcuffed the other end to the iron bedrail. Chase tries to move and lift the antique bed but his angle is too awkward to square himself.

“Okay, Vicky stop this. Come out from under the damn bed.”

Vicky extends her wiry arms from beneath the footboard and creeps out like a tarantula. She rises slowly, unfolding her body one limb at a time. She has disrobed and is wearing nothing but a black leather bra, lace thong and silver stilettos. She burns a mean glare into Chase’s eyes.

“Bong Bonga Bong Bong Bong…Bong Bong Bonga Bong Bong Bong,” she sings and circles her arms in the air as if she were trying to hypnotize him with her bony arms. Chase is dumbfounded.

“Wait…is that? Are you humming the James Bond theme? Okay, listen. I think we should—“

SMACK

Vicky whacks an open palm plum across Chase’s right cheek like a home run swing.

“Silence. You have not been given permission to speak,” she says like a melodramatic actor.

The wallop sends Chase falling backward onto the mattress. With his ankle still shackled, Vicky pounces. Her bare, pincer like thighs splinter on top of him. She clenches his neck with a pair of icy, pink palms and squeezes his hunky jugulars. Their eyes mirror one another. A look of wild possession roars from her pupils as she starts to slow grind on the limp lump of his jeans.

“Okay, enough. That about does it. Wait Vicky. I said stop.”

He locks on her shoulders to pull himself up. He squeezes so hard that she winces in pain…but with a smile.

“Ooh, so
Chess
likes it rough too. Rough he likes…rough,
ruff, ruff, ruff
” she starts barking like an old rich lady’s toy pooch.

“Look, I don’t know what it is you’re into but this stops right now,“ Chase says.

“Then you get no money. Is that what you want to happen?” she says.

Chase doesn't respond. He doesn’t want her money but he does want the Eugene nightmare to end.

“No. I just—” he says.

“Your Master is angry now. You’ll have to
beg
me to continue…
slave boy
.”

“Master? Slave boy? Okay this is the third time you’ve—”

“Shut up. I'm the Master and you are the slave. You’re acting like this is racial. It’s just a fantasy. Now stop ruining the mood and play your part."

"Slave fantasy? Where in the world did you get the idea I’d be cool with that?“

"Look we had a deal,” Vicky says poking him in the forehead.

Chase swats her wrist and sits up. Vicky still straddles him.

“Yes, I know the deal. But what's this slave thing?"

"Your partners promised me. I get a cute baby with nice hair and exotic light brown skin. Plus I get the sex any whicha, whichaway I want."

“Wait, hold up. Hold the f—partners? What partners?"

"The guy. What's his name? John, Jason?"

"Eugene?" Chase says

"Gene. Yes Gene. And then the girl who gave me your address to come here. I don't know her name but I told her my fantasy too. Look, your money is all there. Ugh...You are messing up this. Messing. Messing. Messing. Argh," she says squeezing her forefingers into her temples and squinting.

“Alright. Look I understand. And I’m really sorry for not behaving properly,” Chase says.

He holds her wrists and starts kissing the back of her hands. He pulls Vicky’s face down towards his and kisses her neck and nibbles on her earlobe.

“And you know what Master? I have something very, very special for you. Uncuff me so I can give it to you…like a big black buck,” he says and slurps her neck like it was a short rib dipped in barbecue sauce.

Vicky’s jugular pulsates fast and hard against Chase’s tongue. She gasps. She grinds. She moans. Her long, wet tongue snakes out the corner of her mouth and droops like a german shepherd.

“Now, Master. Uncuff me now. So I can give it to you,” Chase says.

She rolls over and slips her hand underneath the pillow to retrieve a small key. She stares at Chase with an open mouth and a curved upper lip. Chase roars like a lion. Vicky hops off of the bed, drops to the floor, and unlocks the metal cuff binding him.

“Okay slave,” Vicky says looking up from the floor. “Give your Master what she wants. Long, thick and hard like a stallion.”

Chase’s face goes blank. He jumps from the bed. As Vicky stands to plant a kiss on his lips he shoves her aside. He grabs the stacks of $100 bills and crams them back into the envelope. Darting his eyes about the room he spots her dress and sheer pantyhose in the corner and retrieves them. He gathers her clothes and the envelope in a bunch.

“What the hell are you doing?” Vicky says.

“Deal’s off. Take your shit and take your crazy ass out of here.”

“What? You lied? You lied to me," she yells.

“Welcome to America. Now get out,” he replies.

Vicky keeps her arms at her sides. A ferocious fury bubbles under her skin. A thin, bulging green vein wiggles down the middle of her forehead. Her chalky skin turns hot watermelon as her nostrils erupt and her eyes boil.

“Look lady, you can stand there mean mugging me all you want to but—,”

HACH…TUCH…SPIT

Vicky ejects a hot, glop of spit that lands in Chase's eye. It slimes down his cheek like chunky mucous. Chase smiles like a member of anger management trying really,
really
hard not to lose control.

“Alrighty then…Ooooh Kay…yup, yup, yuppers,” Chase nods repeatedly and bites his bottom lip. “Mmmhmm. Okay, real nice psycho chick. Real nice.” Chase scowls.

He takes the fabric of Vicky’s dress and wipes her saliva from his face.

“Hey, that’s my dress,” she screams and swift kicks him in the shin.

Chase grabs his leg and starts hopping around on one foot.

“Ow. You crazy b—. You know what? You know what?”

Chase grabs her by the waist and flips her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He stomps down the long hall. A ranting Vicky punches her fists against his lower back. Shouts of,
we had a deal
, and threats of Russian mafia retribution, echo along the way. Chase grabs her coat from the rack by the entrance and opens the front door. The elevator is waiting with the gate still up. Chase drops Vicky like a sack of potatoes into the empty lift. He tosses the bundle of clothes and her envelope of money inside, and presses the button for the lobby. Just as the gate closes, a stiletto whizzes by his temple and bounces off the wall behind him. The lift rumbles down to the sound of Vicky’s piercing shouts and foreign language curses. Chase trudges back into the apartment. Andrea is standing just inside the doorway, arms folded, shaking her head.