Finding Gideon(127)
We made love like we were trying to escape pain and find something better than the world had offered. I fucked to calm the noise in my head, to make the flashing go away. We moved around the bed, evolved from position to position, from triangle to triangle, until Mrs. Jones mounted me reverse cowgirl.
As Mrs. Jones rose and fell, Lola Mack kissed me again. It was one hell of a honeymoon kiss. She inhaled my moans, then she backed away, crawled, and faced Mrs. Jones, singing. Lola Mack was playful. She touched the attorney’s face and lips.
Then Lola Mack went to her bags, pulled out two vibrators.
After playtime with the toys, after being upside down in my arms, both of them were on the bed, exhausted.
I was an assassin, but I had also grown up in many brothels.
I had my father’s blood. And I had my mother’s blood.
I knew just as many ways to please as I did to kill.
But that hadn’t been enough for Arizona, not at the start.
And it hadn’t been enough for Hawks, not in the end.
Lola Mack asked, “Did you come?”
I shook my head. “Just wanted to please both of you.”
“You’re pretty hard.”
“Yeah. Still.”
“It’s not good for a man to be that excited and not finish.”
“Not good for his health?”
“Not good for my ego.”
Mrs. Jones whispered, “Touch yourself.”
Enthralled, still wiggling her ass from side to side, Lola Mack looked at me and said, “I love it when you jack off and come.”
Mrs. Jones whispered, “Masturbate for us.”
“Yeah. Make yourself come.”
“Do like we used to do on Seven Mile Beach.”
“Hell yeah.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and the goddesses were on their knees, their hands on my thighs, watching me, giggling, waiting.
They ran their hands over my skin and kissed my flesh.
“Slow it down.”
“Yeah, like that.”
I did what they asked.
Like a good whore.
Mrs. Jones whispered, “I love it when you stroke yourself.”
“The way it sounds.”
“This shit is so fuckin’ hot.”
“I’m calling dibs.”
“Oh, we’re about to fight.”
My orgasm made me moan in pain and pleasure. It didn’t want to end. They moved my hand away and took control, stroked me and imbibed until I was dry. While I lay on my back, panting, struggling to come down, they laughed and said I fed them well.
• • •
Not long after we had showered again and sipped water, Lola Mack was on the bed, nude, finally sleeping. I stood in the window, still naked. Mrs. Jones was in my arms, her back to my chest. She held my gun, like she was my protector. Or to keep me from leaving la Ville-Lumière anytime soon.
She rocked in my arms. “Will it be dangerous in Yerres?”
“Everywhere I go, danger waits. Blade sharpened. Gun loaded.”
The gun was in Mrs. Jones’s left hand. She put her right hand behind her, between my legs, then held on to my cock like it was a leash.
Argentina. Medianoche. The Beast. Catherine. Yerres.
Mrs. Jones interrupted my thoughts. “What are you thinking?”
I rocked her, made my smile turn upside down. “Nothing.”
“Your breathing changed. You stopped blinking. I watched your reflection in the mirror. You were gone. You were no longer in this room.”
“I’m here, Mrs. Jones. I’m right here.”
I told myself that one day I’d leave this occupation again. For good. Before the hangman found me and put his noose around my neck, I’d get a woman. Make her my wife. Have a child. Buy a house. Be a square.
And never have to run again. Not even from the IRS.
Across the room, Lola Mack stirred, then turned over.
Mrs. Jones leaned back into me, again serious, and took nervous breaths. I held her a little tighter, absorbed her anxiety, added it to mine.
Mrs. Jones hummed, then twisted her lips. “Lola Mack loves you.”
“I know.”
“She will cancel all her auditions and her wedding if you ask her to. She will leave the life she knows and run away with you if you ask.”
“I know.”
She whispered, “I adore you too. I’ve missed you so much.”
A woman told me I only knew how to fuck. And the better a man fucked, the more a woman was convinced he was making love to her.
Mrs. Jones put the gun down, hand-combed her bushy hair, then turned to me, put her arms around my neck, kissed my lips a dozen times before she put her head against my chest. I looked at the window again, stared at my reflection as I enjoyed the kindness of her skin against mine.
Behind us, a phone vibrated. At first I thought it was the satellite phone that Abeja Reina had given me. It was the other phone.