CRIMINAL CHRISTMAS: A Set of 8 Holiday Suspense Stories, page 72
I wanted to scream. I wanted to kick something. Instead, I took a deep breath and said, “Okay. I’m sorry I was such a bitch our last time.”
He closed his eyes and a beatific smile spread slowly across his face. “Ah, music to my ears. Now was that so hard?”
I shook my head, and I marveled at how I could feel so afraid of this man and yet so drawn to him at the same time.
“Do you know what I find most touching about what you just said to me?”
I shook my head again.
“You said ‘our last time’.” He sighed. “You make it sound so intimate. And sometimes it is, isn’t it? I’ll tell you what, Rebecca, things are going to get even more intimate today. I’m glad to see you’re wearing a skirt because you’re going to do something for me in a little bit.”
He grinned, no, it was more of a sneer, and yet it looked so fucking attractive on him. I started to fantasize about having him on top of me, inside of me. I wanted to know what his face would look like when it was contorted in ecstasy. He leaned forward slightly with a questioning look in his eyes. He’d just sensed something, but what was it? I had the uncomfortable yet familiar sensation that he knew what I was thinking. I had to dismiss that idea. It would drive me crazy if I allowed my mind to go there.
“We can talk for a while first. What questions do you have for me?” He leaned back on his bed, his hands tucked behind his head, looking all too satisfied with himself.
I gave my head a small shake to clear it and consulted my list of questions for today. “Okay, let’s talk about your life between 1989 and 2001, after you left Carnation.”
“What do you want to know?” he asked lazily.
“Where did you go? Where did you live? What did you do for work?”
He fired a couple of questions back at me. “What do you already know? What did Scanlon tell you?”
“Apparently your whereabouts and activities were unknown except for the two murders they were able to link to you: Tammie Lancaster in 1995 and Philippe Devereaux in 2000. What else did you do during that twelve year stretch?”
“Hmm,” he said. He rubbed his chin as he pondered my question. “No, I don’t think we’re going to talk about that right now. It’s too personal. But I have a question for you.” He paused, taking a moment to run his tongue along his teeth, his eyes not leaving mine. “When we get together and have these little chats, does it make you want me? Does it make you wet?”
The papers I held dropped into my lap. “Seriously? Come on, I have a deadline. We need to get through another page of questions or I’m not going to have anything to give my agent.” Why had he even said I could ask him my questions? He obviously had no intention of answering anything right now. He was just screwing with me, and it was so frustrating.
“That’s not my problem, dear. I thought we agreed to put the sex back in our tension? Now look, I can’t do everything all by myself. This has to be a two-way street. Right?”
“Okay,” I said, a sense of foreboding creeping up my spine.
“Now I want to talk about your pussy. Is it wet right now?”
I opened my mouth, but couldn’t speak, a nervous knot forming in my stomach. I nodded. His eyes were burning into mine and it was hard to hold his gaze. I looked down.
“Are you embarrassed?” he asked. “You shouldn’t be. There’s nothing to be ashamed about; you’re just pleasing your man. Right, honey?”
“Uh-huh,” I managed, although it sounded a bit strangled. What could he have meant by that? Surely, whatever he was going to demand would be out of my comfort zone. I could feel myself blushing. I don’t think being embarrassed even began to describe what I was experiencing. My hands gripped the sides of my chair as they would the ledge of a cliff that I had to hold onto for dear life, and my muscles went rigid as I waited to hear what he would require of me. The guards weren’t far away, perhaps thirty feet. I was confident that they couldn’t hear us talking as long as our voices were low, but still, Tom’s sinister expression caused my heart to pound. I watched him and I tried to will him not to go where I feared he planned to take me.
“Now I want you to reach between your legs and rub your panties into your pussy.” My entire body stiffened even more, and I gasped.
“But the cameras…I can’t.”
“Oh, are there cameras, really? Do you think the boys in the control booth can see?” he asked innocently. Then the mask fell, his features warped with malice, and I knew that I looked upon his true face. “That’s not my problem, is it? Do you think I’d tell you to do this if it didn’t bother you? This is paybacks for the way you spoke to me Monday.” He leaned toward me and his voice became even angrier. “Do it!”
I flinched. With great difficulty I loosened the vice-like grip that I had on my chair. I glanced toward the two guards who seemed to be wrapped up in conversation with each other, and then slowly did as he commanded. Tom moaned quietly and leaned back on his bed. “Yeah, that’s right, baby. Make sure they’re nice and wet. I want those panties to smell like cunt. Now take them off and give them to me.”
I didn’t like the way he talked to me. It made me feel like punching him in the face. That urge competed with the desire to grab him and kiss him, to hell with the cell door that stood in our way. But, no, I had to stay four feet back from him at all times. He couldn’t be trusted, and he had quite a reach with those long arms.
I’m not sure why I actually went through with it, maybe it was the whiskey, or perhaps something much darker was driving me. I started to pull my panties down and then glanced at the guards again. I saw Jones standing just outside the doorway to the guard’s booth looking my way as my panties were at mid-thigh. Damn, I hated getting caught. He said something to the guard that sat inside the control booth and then I saw Avery appear as he rolled out of the doorway on his office chair. They both stared as I pulled them the rest of the way off. My face flushed with humiliation as I tossed the flimsy fabric to Eisenbrey through the bars. They watched me for several more seconds, probably to see if I planned to shed any more of my clothing, and then resumed their conversation. Neither of them busted me for breaking the rule about having a guard pass any items through to the prisoner.
I felt glad that I wore something nice and lacy that day. The lavender panties came as part of a matching set with my bra, and I was sorry to see them go, but I told myself that they went for a good cause.
Tom tugged his T-shirt up, exposing his abdomen, covered with dark hair. My eyes traveled down as he unzipped his pants, then reached in and started stroking himself. “Goddamn…” he said quietly. He put the panties up to his face and breathed deeply. “You smell so good just like I knew you would the first day you came to me. Show me your tits.”
“Holy shit! Stop it. This area is not even remotely private,” I hissed. My raised voice brought the attention of the two guards and they both watched me again.
His eyes flickered in their direction and then returned to me. “They don’t care. Come on, honey, give me some fuel.” He pulled his shirt up higher, baring most of his chest. I leaned forward to get a better view of his cock—so thick and long. I wanted to be the one rubbing it instead of him. More than that, I wanted to ride him.
“Oh my God! I can’t do that!” I whispered, not wanting to be heard by the guards or watched by them. I had never understood people that were exhibitionists. How did a person get the nerve to undress in front of an audience? I was far too shy for that sort of thing.
“Don’t be like that. I know you’re not wearing panties anymore. Spread your legs apart for me,” he demanded. My hesitation made him angry. “That was not a suggestion!” he barked. I stared at him, my disbelief melting into lust. Seeing Tom do this to himself made me so hot I couldn’t help myself anymore. As I watched him my knees came apart and my skirt slid up a few inches.
“Fuck!” he said as he stared between my legs. He liked that word and he repeated it a few more times, stroking himself harder and faster. Then his head fell back and he moaned. He arched his back, grabbing hold of his bed sheets with his unoccupied hand, and he moaned louder. I felt panic and exhilaration coursing through me, shocked at the amount of noise he made. He really didn’t care who could hear him or who might see him, which was good because Jones started to make his way toward us. Tom ejaculated all over his chest, and then his body relaxed and his head fell back onto his pillow. He wore a happy, contented grin, such a beautiful sight.
“Eisenbrey! Put your dick back in your goddamned pants!” Jones yelled. Then under his breath he said, “Fucking pervert.” Eisenbrey was right, they really didn’t care what he was up to. Jones had already turned around and was headed back to the control booth.
“Yes officer,” Tom said congenially. “Thanks for waiting until I was finished before ordering me to do that. That was very decent of you.” Then his attention fixed back on me. “That was real nice, sugar.”
“Whatever possessed you to do that?” I gasped, my heart still racing.
“I believe that it’s customary for couples to have sex after they’ve been dating for a while. Given my incarceration, that’s the best I could manage. Was it good for you?” He didn’t seem to notice my lack of response. He muttered, “Where’s a cigarette when you want one?” He grabbed a small towel and wiped his chest off with it.
“Uh, did you just say we were a couple?”
“Wouldn’t you?” He looked taken aback. He fastened his pants and put his T-shirt right. “If not, then I think you should spend a little more time pondering the nature of our relationship.”
The truth was that I spent all too much time pondering that quagmire and I still couldn’t clearly define it. Perhaps he was right. I smoothed my skirt back down and tried to look like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, though I felt completely excited. We were quiet for several moments and Tom’s breathing slowed down to its normal rate.
“Oh, the things that you’d do for me if I wasn’t locked up in this cell,” he said dreamily. At the time it didn’t even occur to me just how backward that was. “So how’s the book coming along, sugar?”
“Pretty well. I’ve got a couple of chapters written. Once I have it all written, there’ll be editing and reworking.”
“How long’s all that gonna take?”
“I’m not sure…perhaps a few more months.”
“Hmm. I want to see what you’ve written so far. Bring some of it with you next time.”
“Sure. Yes, I’ll do that.” I nodded. Now that he appeared happy and relaxed, it seemed like a good time to mention the other interview I had done since I last saw him.
“I saw your mother yesterday,” I blurted out.
“What?” Tom suddenly sat upright, alarmed. “Why the hell did you do that? Why would you want to bother her?”
I felt a jolt inside as I witnessed his angry outburst. “It’s important for me to get information from multiple sources.”
“Not without my permission, it isn’t.” Tom leaned back on his bed, taking a couple deep breaths to calm himself. After a few moments he looked relaxed again, as though nothing had alarmed him in the first place, a true acrobat. “What did she have to say about me?” he asked in a cool, detached voice.
I relayed our conversation to him honestly, and he didn’t become surprised or irritated about anything she had said about him. After he’d heard all of it he visibly relaxed. Oddly enough, he turned out to be very understanding about his mother’s fear, and he was content to respect her need for distance from him.
There wasn’t any more game playing from Tom that day. Perhaps the gift of orgasm was a good way to manage his behavior. He was kind to me for the rest of the interview. The downside came when I walked past the control booth on my way out; I had to endure Jones staring me down with that great big jackass grin on his face.
Chapter 20
Later, as I dwelled on the stupidity of what I had done and worried about who might find out, the realization hit me: It didn’t really matter if I responded in kind to his flirtation, and I could classify that last episode as mere flirting since we hadn’t actually touched. Who had to know what we said or did during our visits? I was the one to decide what went into the book, the only one to report what happened. I could slant it any way I wanted, and there was no reason to come out looking like a villain in something that I wrote. The public didn’t need to be apprised of my foolish behavior.
But as for what I knew, I had no illusions. A war raged inside of me and I was going to be the casualty. I missed mom and dad. It hurt to remember them, or to be more specific, it hurt to wonder what they must have felt right at the end. How much had they suffered? Was it quick, or had Death taken its sweet time? How much terror must they have felt?
I was angry. Angry at Eisenbrey. But why exactly? He hadn’t killed my parents. What about all of the people he had killed? The count was most certainly higher than the nine he’d been convicted of. What about their families? Surely, those people had suffered like I had, like I still suffered. None of us had deserved to lose the people we loved before their time, especially in such a depraved way.
Tom was the enemy. Why had I allowed myself to have feelings for this man? And I was sure I cared for him, although I didn’t know if I could say I had allowed it. It just seemed to have happened in spite of my efforts to stop it.
My loathing for the evil side of him that I hated, feared and felt repulsed by wasn’t strong enough to beat back the feelings of affection I harbored for his attractive and compelling side. But what had attracted me? His looks, certainly, and his charm. At times he was dominating and controlling, and other times I thought I could see the hurt little boy inside of him. I had even seen glimpses of kindness during our visits. In all, I’d witnessed a mixture of contradictions that was alluring. Those two personas—the good and the evil—seemed like two completely different men. I wasn’t able to reconcile the two into one individual, and it was really fucking with my head.
I worked on the book for several hours that evening, quitting close to midnight, and felt satisfied with the amount of work I’d completed. I stood and stretched, feeling sleepy. Bedtime.
In my peripheral vision I caught a dark shape moving toward me from the hallway and whipped my head around to look at him full on. The hall was empty. I took quick steps toward the place where I had just seen him and then peeked inside the open doorway of my home office—the one location where I never seemed to write. This was the only room close enough for someone to duck into that quickly.
Flipping on the light, I surveyed the room. No intruder. I let out the breath I’d been holding. There was no other place he could have disappeared to. But still…it was smart to be thorough, so I turned on all the lights and searched every room on the ground floor of the house. I found no one.
It was vodka time now. I went to the kitchen, poured some vodka and a little orange juice in a glass, and gave it a stir. Then my drink and I went upstairs to my bedroom, where I curled up with a book, hoping to become sleepy again.
Chapter 21
November 12th, 2012
When I arrived at the guard’s booth I saw Jones leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the desk, twirling a familiar lacy pair of lavender colored panties around on his finger. “I wonder what color it’ll be today.” He spoke to the other guard, but looked me up and down without actually turning his face to me.
“Five dollars on black,” the other one mumbled, not glancing up from his magazine. I didn’t know him yet, and it didn’t look as though Jones intended to introduce us. Jones stood and sauntered past me. I followed him back to the cells without acknowledging their bullshit. The other guard had actually guessed the color correctly, so if Eisenbrey managed to get another pair of panties off of me, Jones would be out five bucks. That warmed my heart a little.
As we approached Tom’s cell, Jones decided to converse with me after all. “So Miss Reis, how are your visits going?” He smiled at me, which I returned reflexively, but then his smile morphed into an intimidating glower. Jones leaned in close. Though his tone was intense his volume was barely above a whisper. “Are you having fun talking with the monster? It can be a bit tricky. He doesn’t like most people.”
“He’s fine with me. He seems to like me,” I said.
“He likes you when you take your panties off. Don’t become complacent and don’t allow yourself to believe that it’s okay to wander within his reach. You may feel like you’re getting along great, but you still need to stay back from the bars. He can do some real damage when he chooses to, and he’s fast. Do you know about the guard he attacked?”
“Wilson Stills?”
“Yes. And have you read his description of Eisenbrey’s demeanor immediately prior to the attack?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“He stated that Eisenbrey was calm that morning. He seemed to be in a good mood. He joked around with Stills while being handcuffed and they both laughed. In fact, Stills thought he was really good with Eisenbrey. He used to volunteer to be the one to transport him whenever he had to go outside of his cell.” Jones paused, his face filled with anger and resentment. “He said he didn’t understand how or why it happened. One second everything was hunky dory, just two fellas having a pleasant chat, and then Eisenbrey struck like a viper. He sunk his teeth into Still’s throat and tore him open, severing the carotid artery in the process. Stills lost a great deal of blood within a few seconds. He’s very lucky that one of his coworkers used to be an Army medic; he clamped the artery. There happened to be a visiting physician on site who helped stabilize Stills until the medics arrived. The fact that he survived is nothing short of a miracle. My point is, he never saw it coming, and paid dearly for that. He never should have relaxed around Eisenbrey.”
