
The Gift by Carol McKenzie
© 2005
Ocean's Mist Press
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Gift
Copyright (c) 2005 by Carol McKenzie
ISBN: 0-9773040-015-5
Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Ginger Heaston & Mari LaCroix
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law.
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Hank Cooper dreaded going into Johnny Brook's room at St. John's Hospital. The prognosis was bleak. His buddy no longer exuded invincibility or virility. No longer a cop but a cancer patient, Johnny concerned himself with a different type of survival. His life was coming full circle and he had tied up all his loose ends except one.
Thinking back, remembering the high spots of their relationship, Hank owed his partner more than he could ever repay. On several occasions, while on patrol, Johnny had saved his butt. Wearing his uniform because he'd just left work, Hank entered and took a seat next to Johnny's bed, quietly watching the nurse assist Johnny in taking his meds.
Prematurely grief stricken, tears glistened in Hank's eyes. His heart ached.
"It's all right, Hank. Don't be sad." Johnny cleared his throat and toyed with his pillow. "It's okay. I don't want you to be sad."
"I'm fine," Hank lied.
"Death is a part of life."
Hank shook his head and rested his forehead in his hands. A big sigh left his lips. Fearing Johnny would recognize his fears, Hank asked "Why are you saying that? No one knows how long we have. You might be around a long time."
It was as though Johnny didn't hear the statement. "After I go, I want you to move on with your life. Don't dwell on me."
"Hell, you'll probably be looking over my shoulder in my squad car."
"Maybe I will." Johnny laughed.
"Listen, Hank I have most all of my loose ends taken care of. I've left all my savings to cancer. But I saved out a little money for something that I want done for one of those undone loose ends."
Puzzled, Hank peered into Johnny's pale face. "What's that?"
"I won't get a chance to tell Carmine goodbye the way I want to."
It hurt Hank to see his friend pining over a lost love, especially at this late hour in his life. "I can call and arrange--"
"Not now. She's married. It's probably best that a message be delivered after I pass."
"How can you..." Talking about death and dying was hard. Hank saw his own dying mother and father's faces in Johnny's chiseled features. Cancer had taken them too.
"I've heard that her marriage is failing, but I don't want to be held responsible for breaking it up."
"What do you suggest?"
"I need you to get in touch with her when, and if, her marriage ends. After I'm gone."
"That'll be no problem."
Johnny held up a finger. "There's more to it."
"What?
"I have a dying request of you, Hank."
"You're not..." Hank started to correct him, but instead his voice fell away. The word "dying" stuck in his throat.
"It's true. I am."
Abjectly Hank asked, "What do you want me to do?"
"It's regarding Carmine."
"Sure, Johnny. Anything."
After Johnny reached for a clear glass of ice water, sipped and carefully replaced it onto the bedside stand he said, "You don't know her, but I still care about her...Carmine." He remembered their afternoons together with the shades drawn and the long Sunday afternoon drives out of town. Their long passionate kisses and dinners by candlelight that led to a passionate evening. She was soft...and submissive. His perfect match. Why had she listened to her family about not marrying a cop? No one should choose a person's spouse for them except the person involved.
Hank nodded and looked down. "I figured that you cared about her...a lot."
"How did you know?"
"Every time a past love was mentioned you softened up." Hank changed positions in the chair. And, as he moved, the leather of his belt and holster crunched. "You can't be partners for years and not know what's in the other guy's mind. Johnny, we've gone through hell and high water together. We've been shot at and nearly run down. You'll make it through, buddy."
"Not this time."
A long painful silence punctuated the conversation. Hank wasn't prepared for Johnny's remarkable request.
"I have a favor to ask. A last request."
"Sure, Johnny. What is it?"
With skin the color of a rich mocha, Carmine Ashton peered into the home office, wrapped her arms at her waist, and shifted her weight onto one leg. She wore a black cashmere coat, black hose, and pumps. For an accent she wore a diamond broach that was pinned to her side swept silk scarf. Her long black shiny mane was done up and clasped with a diamond studded comb. Hardly, she was dressed for traveling.
Attorney Mark Ashton, a tall blonde 40-year-old white man did not flash his icy blue brooding eyes her way. In fact, he didn't look up from the paperwork on his desk until she said, "I'm leaving town for awhile." Scented blue smoke from a lit cigarette twirled upward from a crystal ashtray.
He blinked, tossed his pen onto an open book and rubbed his eyes. He rested his chin onto a fist. "To go where? It's Thanksgiving, for chrissakes," he said harshly, grinning. Definitely he feared her leaving ever since she had caught him first hand with another woman. "You can't take off, giving little or no notice!"
It didn't bother him, his infidelity didn't; not one little bit, Carmine fumed. Damn his soul. Mark had trampled the love she'd given him. Their marriage had been a mistake and sex was no longer enjoyable.
"I need time to think." The outcome of their marriage seemed bleak and irreparable.
"About what?" he asked incredulously. "I've apologized, for god sakes. Do you want me to get down on my knees?"
"I don't think it'd help...not now it wouldn't." She began walking toward the front door. He thought a simple apology could mend her hurt and the new distrust she had of him. He was wrong; not even a marriage counselor could make her want to stay. How long had it been since he'd turned her on with a little warm up or sweet talk? To her, it was a lot like revving the engines before the race. God, it'd been years since she'd had some quality sex.
Perhaps Mark performed satisfactorily with his mistress...or was that plural...mistresses? Why hadn't he tried to spice up their sex life before going out on her? But, Carmine's luck had been bad from the very beginning with Mark. He stuck his dick in her, pounded her, came, withdrew and shortly thereafter fell asleep without expressing affection, kind of like "wham-bam-thank you Ma'am." Ho hum. Sex occurred mindless, like it was a bodily function, like clockwork taking place daily. Carmine had studied the shadows on the ceiling the whole while he did his thing. Boring.
Carmine tried reasoning and enlightening him, telling him what she wanted and how she wanted it, but he didn't pay attention and try to please her. He merely pleased himself. She hated getting a divorce. Sex with Mark was hardly satisfying. It was more of a frustrating undertaking, if anything. Was he gay and not telling her?
Realization registering in his eyes, he implored her, "Wait. Let's talk." He lightly grasped her forearm, stopping her progression toward the front door. Their beautiful two-story ivory house with its hunter green shutters and gold toned fixtures, now reminded her of a prison from which she had to escape. No longer did she care about her home or him, as she once had.
"This situation is unbearable. My trust, Mark, it's gone." Her voice thick with contempt, "Mark, you really blew it this time." Hot tears seeped from her eyes and washed down her mocha colored cheeks.
Grabbing only her purse but leaving behind her cell phone and briefcase, she closed the office door and rushed out into the cold night wearing only the black cashmere coat and lawyerly attire that she'd worn all day in court or her office. Her chest tightened with heartache. The cheater didn't deserve an explanation regarding her hasty departure. Let him feel pain, too. As a matter of fact, Mark didn't deserve her. It'd be a cold day in hell before she allowed him to touch her again. To hell with the bloody holiday season; he absolutely ruined Thanksgiving. Not wanting to air her dirty linen in public, she decided to get out of there to think and regain her composure.
Carmine pressed the button to raise the garage door, climbed in the black, Gold Edition Lexus and backed down the driveway, leaving Mark peering her way, his hands shoved into his pants pockets. Leaving her neighborhood, Carmine began driving, not caring about anything except escape. Her cheeks wet with tears, she merged onto the interstate past the downtown district of Mt. Vernon then drove west.
Looking out the windshield, Carmine pressed the accelerator and drove past numerous living room windows that were hopefully happy households full of people who were readying for Thanksgiving which was two days away.
Hours passed before she began wondering how many hours it had been since she left Mt. Vernon. Two, three? Twilight pinked the horizon. As soon as she stopped for gas she would call her parents in Chicago and let them know she was okay. So they'd understand her plight, she'd also tell her mother that less than twenty hours ago, she'd caught Mark with a legal secretary at their firm, evidently a mistress, in the back room. She had walked in just as he had been running his hand up her skirt, while kissing her full on the mouth. Two office employees nervously came forward telling Carmine that her husband and secretary's relationship had commenced earlier that year and it made them nervous to see their boss indulging in such unnerving activity, especially when Carmine, also worked in the same office. Why hadn't she noticed all the warning signs? They had been there. Perhaps she had been in denial. Damn his cheating soul. She felt as though someone took a knife, stuck it in her heart and twisted. Carmine lost all her love for him. She pulled the wedding and engagement rings off her finger. Her mind returned to the depressing present, leaving the hurtful memory of Mark's infidelity behind, she lowered the window and tossed the expensive gold rings out into the cold night.
"Fuck him!" Carmine cried out as she peered at the increasingly hilly, tree-lined side roads; she pounded the steering wheel once and reached for a tissue from a box that occupied the passenger seat then raised the window. Mark had held her heart in his hands before yesterday. How could she have been so blind?
Divorce, she wanted it now more than ever. God, she wanted to sign the papers and be done with him. Scalding tears welled in her eyes as she fiddled with the satellite radio until she found a classical station that was playing one of Tchaikovsky's pieces. Perhaps a little light music would soothe her frayed emotions. Carmine let the majestic melody wash through her, soothing her frayed state She needed a man...a real man, one like she had at one time. Johnny Brooks was his name. Carmine needed love and loving...spice like he gave her. She needed a man to take her into his loving, strong arms, hold her, stroke her lovingly and tell her everything would be okay. Perhaps she needed something a little darker at times, too.
Mark Ashton, it seemed, no longer added spontaneity and excitement to their love life; he'd ruined their relationship and trampled her trust.
Being a well-known figure in the southern Illinois area was a double-edged sword. Some folks said Carmine's future was bright. Citizens of Illinois recognized her name within at least two to three hundred miles if not more, of Mt. Vernon, especially since she had been on the news seven or eight times in the last six months. Carmine needed space, far away from Mt. Vernon and everyone she knew. Perhaps her original plan to escape to the mountains of Colorado hadn't been the smartest action to take, especially in the beginning of winter, but nevertheless Carmine traveled toward her cabin near Alamosa Colorado, even with the knowledge that the roads would probably be closed. Carmine did not care; she knew she wasn't thinking straight. At least she had brought her credit cards. As long as she had the credit cards let unforeseen events unleash.
Did she want to end her marriage of nine years? Thank God, they did not have children. Oh, the emotional pain of separation. The newly divorced on average withstood separation without experiencing negative effects and she too would thrive without Mark. Oh fuck yes, she needed time to think.
Her mother, father and other family members would wonder why she didn't come home for the holiday, but she didn't want to face them this Thanksgiving. It would be a difficult task re-hashing the painful news. Purposefully, she didn't bring her cell phone and decided to call them as soon as she got near a phone. Carmine Ashton, Attorney at Law, drove twenty hours straight and did not run into a moment of bad weather. She would go where no one knew her so she could emotionally heal and gather strength before returning.
Carmine peered out the driver's side window and flipped on the windshield wipers. Until then she hadn't experienced bad weather. Snow began spitting and conditions deteriorated rapidly. On the radio, she heard the six o'clock newsman report that skiers needed snow on the slopes; that temperatures throughout the Midwest had heated to a balmy 33 degrees. A soft bed and quiet motel room beckoned; she had to stop soon and get some rest.
Carmine drove past a city limits sign. The temperature had nosedived from 33 to 17 degrees, so she rented a room at a cheap motel and decided that going to the winter cabin was not the best idea. Not using her own name or wanting Mark to find her, Carmine rented a room weary and emotionally distraught.
She unlocked the door of the room, stepped inside and scrutinized the blue bedspread with its white flowers and 1960s psychedelic picture hanging on the wall behind the headboard. The room was rather dingy, but so what? In striking contrast to the bedspread, the drapes were red with large yellow flowers. The dingy room's television didn't work. Nevertheless, for the night, she'd call it home.
Who knew what the future held? With a shove of her foot, Carmine closed the door.
For the time being, she needed sleep...healing sleep and time alone. Her heart ached so badly that she felt it was good to take a time out from her life and figure out what she wanted to do about her crumbling marriage. Why had she started dating Mark ten years ago when she had a loving, sexy, ardent boyfriend in Johnny Brooks?
Where are you Johnny? I wish you could come to me. I need you.
The next day, Thanksgiving Eve, Carmine decided to not check out and drive back to Mt. Vernon like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Besides, with the heavy snow she didn't want to drive on snow-packed roads. Emptiness and sadness wreaked havoc and Carmine yearned for her life the way it used to be with a faithful husband. Now she lacked something or someone. Maybe revenge on Mark would make her feel better; then, maybe not. In frustration, she sighed as she pulled the drapes closed.
The next day she showered, left the motel room and drove to a department store where she bought a newly-stocked Christmassy green sweater and a few necessities. A little after two in the afternoon, she left the motel room again, dressed in new clothes. Feeling a little better and drove to a bar.
Three or four cars were parked outside Lonnie's Lounge. While she parked the car she vaguely realized a neon sign blinked, OPEN. Once inside, she shed her coat and hung it on a coat rack as a couple of men who had beers sitting before them looked her way. Carmine paid them no mind as she made her way to the bar. She smelled the scent of cigarette and cigar smoke. Country music was playing on the jukebox.
While too dark inside at least it was warm. The glow of lighted beer signs and the lamp over the pool table seemed to provide whatever light there was to be seen in the bar. Two longhaired men played pool while a young woman watched.
"A scotch on the rocks, please," she told the bartender, still shaking from the events of the past two days. She sat on a high-backed stool at the bar.
The bartender, wearing a University of Colorado sweatshirt put his cigarette into an ashtray, pulled up his sleeves, and asked, "Any particular kind?"
"Chevis is fine."
"Good choice."
"It's good scotch."
"All right."
As the bartender reached for a rocks glass and a squat clear bottle, she wondered how long had it been since she had a good lay? That was what she needed. Hungrily, she remembered how expertly Johnny had once tended her needs.
The gray-haired, rotund bartender put a cocktail napkin and drink before her, interrupting her thoughts.
Carmine paid. "Thanks."
Leaving her, he rejoined a group of gossipy men at the opposite end of the long bar. The jukebox played romantic slow music and she smelled hamburgers grilling in the back room that caused her tummy to growl. Already she felt a little better; she had needed to get away and sort out all her thoughts. Sometimes life was so confusing. Perhaps she should think out her problems on a full stomach.
Beer sign lights gleamed in a dark corner and a couple two-stepped to the beat of a country song on a sawdust covered floor.
Maybe all she needed to heal and get her head squarely back on her shoulders again was to get away. What was that old adage? Time heals all wounds? Even so, damn Mark, she'd never cheated on him. He hadn't cared how much he'd hurt her. The jerk would cheat again. She knew him through and through and needed to forget him.
Looking at herself she saw a thirty-five year old well-proportioned woman with a fine figure, of medium height and weight, soft dark brown hair, delicate features and doe brown eyes. She was a high-powered attorney who made boque cash: Carmine Ashton had the world on a string. Perhaps she didn't have a faithful husband, but she had herself. That said she peered up at the bartender and said, "Bring me another scotch and a hamburger." And as she ate, she remembered the exciting man she had broken up with before she met Mark. The feeling of his lips on her throat came over her. She needed the type of sex he offered.
What a hunk he was. Tall, dark, muscular. A cop. Clean-shaven. Mm. Her nipples peaked against the lace of her bra at the thought of him. His eyes were obsidian and his facial lines, chiseled. In fact, he looked better than any or all of the California sex symbols--absolutely yummy. Some women might call him a stud. Occasionally she saw him in town; though she hadn't seen him in over a year. Twice, through a mere chance meeting, she saw him in his squad car, pulling over a speeder. Experiencing just a fleeting sighting of him triggered her to recall the day his hands slid under her slip, under the band in her panties and into her moist slit. Johnny had an ass that set her on fire when he wore jeans. He came to town when he had to appear in court, if she remembered correctly after their break up. Usually he was accompanied with another cop, but she only had eyes for Johnny.
Her parents had a hand in her and Johnny's break up, because they didn't want her marrying a cop. Their intentions were good, because Carmine's mom knew a woman well whose husband was killed in the line of duty, leaving the woman with three kids to raise alone.
Carmine knew within a year after her wedding to Mark that he didn't suit her. Secretly, she wanted to go back to Johnny. Why she listened to her mother, she'd never know.
But Johnny...mm...his lovemaking techniques were...different, masterful and delectably domineering. Perhaps kinky. God, she had loved the frizzles and twists of having sex with him. After they separated, she heard through the female office grapevine and a few other attorneys Johnny had joined a BDSM club. When he was with her he didn't practice the lifestyle on her per se; he was merely curious. Seemed he got a bit more curious...
On occasion, he'd handcuffed her to the bed, but she considered that ordinary sex.
Mark had never pleasured her that way; he hadn't even tried. He merely pleased himself.
Over the years, during her marriage, the slightest recollection of Johnny and the dark side of their intimate involvement caused need to gnaw and tumble to the depths of her core. A true blue wife, not promiscuous, she shoved all illicit thoughts to the depths of her mind.
Shutting out all thoughts of Johnny, coming back to the here and now, Carmine sipped the last of her scotch, left a tip, retrieved her coat, and headed for the hotel. She high stepped over a drift of snow. Nearby a plow cleared a northbound lane. She had to forget him. What was wrong with her, dwelling on what may have been? Again and again her mind slid right back, centering on Johnny.
Was Johnny still single? She remembered the first time he'd asked her out--she refused! Thank God she accepted the second time. One day when she was up to it, she would look him up. But the more she stewed over it, she surmised he probably would not speak to her. After all she had dropped him for Mark so many years earlier...ten years to be exact.
Back in the dark motel room, Carmine flopped over onto her front side and gathered a pillow to her face. Need gnawed at her from within. She had left one nightlight on. Later, after tossing around in the sheets, she fell asleep and he came to her in the foggy fringes. His warm body on her backside pressed her face forward into the mattress. On his knees between her thighs, he lowered himself onto her, his lips at her ear. His hot breath moved her long raven hair as his hands moved down her curves, their warm bodies mingling.
"You're here," she murmured. He felt so good.
He thought the words, You want it, don't you?
She felt his luscious, hard rod pressing into her buttocks.
Imagining it in full color, she trembled like a leaf, her clitoris aching for the thrust and the rough slide over her skin.
"Johnny?" she called to him in the foggy, gray dream world. "Mm. Oh yes." It had been so many years.
She felt his calloused hands moving over her ample mocha colored breasts.
"Would you like it in the ass?"
"Yes, Johnny fuck me now." Please let him be real. "I need you."
She gasped at the touch of his fingers on the outer lips of her pussy. "What are you doing?" she asked without fear, loving the sliding feel of him, spreading, opening herself to the limit, even lifting her derriere under his weight. He'd never done it to her in the ass, but she wanted it very much, even if it hurt.
When she looked back for a fraction of a second, his eyes caught a glimmer of the moonlight that filtered through the slitted drapes.
We have unfinished business. I've bought you a gift.
"For Christmas? What is it?"
Silence, dead and empty, stagnated in the room.
"Don't go."
"I'm leaving this world now, Carmine."
Bewildered, she turned her head, watched his figure dissipate, then sat up and looked at the time. It was two a.m. and she'd merely dreamt of him. It had been so real! Her inner thighs were wet! When would she see him again?
Mark's infidelity had doomed their marriage. After she returned to Mt. Vernon and rented a townhouse, she immediately and fully separated from Mark. Within the week she had signed the divorce papers and was free. Carmine took a week off one week before and after Christmas under her soon to be ex-husband's watchful eye, ignoring his interest, retreating in icy silence. To get her groove back, Carmine accepted a date with another lawyer from Centralia, but any sexual attraction for him eluded her.
She caught up on personal correspondence, went shopping and one day after hashing and re-hashing what she'd say, Carmine casually called the telephone number Johnny had given her ten years ago. Much to her dismay, it had been disconnected.
After three hours of shopping in the mall, she lingered over lunch with her best friend Kenna, enjoying chatting over coffee. The lunch crowd left two waitresses to clean tables all around them as busboys lugged the tubs of dirty dishes into the kitchen.
Carmine revealed all her feelings about letting go of Mark and her decade long marriage. In turn, Carmine learned some disconcerting facts that took her back, but she didn't bring up Mark's name at first.
"I'm really sorry Mark wouldn't try to please you."
A sigh of frustration left Carmine's lips. "I know. Some marriages just weren't meant to be. I love my Mom and Dad. But Kenna, I shouldn't have listened."
"It's too bad about your old boyfriend, isn't it?"
Carmine swallowed and carefully set down her cup. "Who do you mean?" she asked bracing herself.
"It happened while you were away. Johnny. It is too bad he died of cancer...pancreatic cancer. Three weeks earlier he found out he had it and knew he was dying."
"My ex? Johnny you mean?"
Slowly Kenna nodded. "Oh. I'm sorry." Kenna's mouth formed an "O." "I should have broken it in more easily."
"He--he died?"
Slowly Kenna nodded and picked up her cup.
Hot tears welled in Carmine's eyes. She'd so much wanted to see him again. Actually wanted was not the correct word. She needed to see him again.
"I should have realized you still had a flame for him."
The talk continued and Carmine realized that he quite possibly died around the same moment he had visited Carmine in the dream.
"It's uncanny," said Carmine, shaken. "He died maybe around the same moment he had come to me in a dream...right after I had left Mark. He had said some things I didn't understand. I took it he wanted to see me again."
When they ambled out to Kenna's red Mustang, Kenna said, "Call a psychic. Find out what the hell he was trying to tell you. I had this premonition last night to say something to you."
Carmine didn't tell Kenna but she too had the idea come to her in a dream. "I don't know...do you believe in psychics?"
"Maybe psychics are real."
At that point, Carmine would try anything to communicate with Johnny. "You want to come when I go?" asked Carmine as she opened the car door.
"Sure. Why not?"
Once inside, their seatbelts clasped, Kenna said, "I know where one lives. She charges by the sitting and takes credit cards."
"This is so silly. I feel badly that he died, but really? Go to a psychic?" whispered Carmine fiercely.
Wearing a smile, Kenna offered, "See if what she says makes any sense."
After a thoughtful pause, "I will if you go with me."
"You and I aren't working today, so let's do."
During a forty-five minute wait in the designer red and blue waiting room of the psychic, Madame Culver, the ladies read Hollywood scandal sheets.
"I think we were lucky there was a cancellation," whispered Carmine, as she daubed a new batch of tears. "I may not have come back."
Kenna remarked, "She must be good. Maybe it'll give you a chance to say goodbye, since you loved him."
"I did."
"What else did you like about him?" asked Kenna dreamily.
"He was a good lover. He tied me up and tortured me with his mouth. It wasn't average torture, it was d..."
"Ohhhh?"
"He took his time...even if it took all night."
An elderly lady who was dressed in a blue pants suit came to the door and peered at the suddenly quiet Kenna and Carmine. "Please come in. I understand you want to connect with a departed soul who was once your lover."
"Yes."
"I think he's here already waiting to talk to you." She flattened a hand to her chest. "I am Madame Culver. Extending her hand towards the room she stated "Both of you are welcome to come inside and take a seat at the table.
Within five minutes, Madame Culver's body was taken over by an entity who Kenna and Carmine thought to be Johnny. Colorful specks flitted about the room as if blown by wind even though the narrow ceiling high windows had been shut drum tight. Mesmerized by the sudden strange surroundings, they took a seat on the floor among brocade throw pillows.
Her voice and features suddenly seemed masculine.
"Is there something you'd like to say to me, Johnny?" asked Carmine.
"Yesssss," said the woman, her eyes rolling and her head and upper body weaving otherworldly. "I've known for a long time that you're marriage had soured."
"It was never good, Johnny."
"I want to tell you goodbye in a special way."
"I don't see how that can happen."
"I loved you, Carmine...you left me for Mark. But I want you one last time."
"I don't understand..."
"Ask him what he means," Kenna whispered.
"What do you mean?"
"You will find a business card in a parking lot. Take it to Club 99. It's a gift."
"Johnny? Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"I miss you. Can you come back? I made an awful mistake. I--I listened to my family. Now I realize that I shouldn't let them choose my love. For the past ten years I've agonized over that wrong decision. Oh Johnny. Forgive me."
"I forgive you, my love. Accept the gift and we can see each other again."
In a vaporous cloud Madame Culver disappeared into thin air for a moment, the room shook and she returned, her facial expressions normalized. "It's over..."
She looked exhausted. "I'm sorry?" asked Kenna.
"It's over. He left."
Carmine asked, "What do you think he meant?"
Madame Culver stood. "I'd say that you'll be finding a card."
And, exactly two days later, in the City Hall parking lot, Carmine found the card. Immediately, recognizing it, she took it to her townhouse, readied and dressed for bed and called Kenna telling her the news.
Kenna said, "I don't want to throw water on your plans, Carmine, but do you know what type of club Club 99 is?"
"What type?" she asked already having an inkling.
"It delivers sex to women, maybe men too, in a very ritzy way. It's a BDSM club or something like that."
"Oh really?"
"Yes."
"It sounds interesting. Definitely different."
"Are you serious about going through with it, Carmine?"
"I want any sex Johnny sends even if it's not him and it's sent from the grave."
"You must have loved him. Why was it you left him again?"
"My parents didn't approve."
Kenna rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling. "Well good luck."
"I may need it."
"It's spooky Carmine."
"But, I want his gift."
She celebrated Christmas, with her family, on the 23rd of December because her first cousin, Alexia, a cello player, planned to leave on an overseas musical tour with the orchestra she played with. Since everyone in her family was off work, they decided to move the dinner and gift exchange to the 23rd.
Once the dinner and gift exchange had ended, on Christmas Eve afternoon, with a carload of newly opened Christmas gifts, Carmine drove home to Mt. Vernon. Later, that night, she made the final decision to turn the card in to the front desk of the Club 99 and accept the sexual gift that Johnny had given her from beyond the grave. There was no doubt that he had sent it. She just didn't want her clients to know she attended such a club. Before she turned off the light, she flipped the card and read some fine print discovering there was a second club in Saint Louis, a hundred and fifty miles from the one in her hometown. Surely, no one would know her there.
The initial visit to Club 99 consisted mainly of getting Carmine's okay, her signature and receiving a general orientation of the "rules" and a list of how the "gift" worked. It was conducted in a very business-like way. Carmine realized they had to cover their butt legally, which was understandable.
A well-dressed attractive woman who had a wealth of long black hair, wearing a low-cut tight black dress said that a visitor come to her house at an unannounced time and would fly her to Jamaica. He wanted it to be a secret as to what he'd do to her, but that it was a gift. She was given a vague list of the acts the stranger would accomplish, including one sex act that she didn't recognize called "punishment," using Velcro restraints, spreader bar and a blindfold. That intrigued her very much.
"Does the gift cost a lot?" asked Carmine as she read the list.
"Yes, it does. The trip to Jamaica is included. Do you want the refund?"
The gift, she ascertained was a type of "sexually enjoyable punishment" that was harmless. A BSDM novice, she was unclear of the exact nature of the gift Johnny had purchased and that she had just signed for, she hesitantly answered "No."
"Okay then," she said as she turned the papers around for her to sign. "If you don't want the refund and you agree to the stipulations here, this and this, please sign here."
Carmine hesitated. "The benefactor. Who is he?" she asked, wanting to make sure it was Johnny who arranged this for her.
She took a sheet of paper from a folder and read his name. "A Mr. John Brooks."
Carmine nodded. "I see."
The woman's eyes rose from the legal sheet. "Is everything all right?"
"Um, yes. It's fine." Carmine looked around at the gold chrome, marble and white carpeted room. "Is this type of store or club new?"
"Not really. Our particular service is very popular throughout Europe, United States and Canada. Club 99 also has a private club." The woman nodded. "Do you have any more questions?"
Having to ask difficult questions made Carmine nervous. "Um yes...after reading the brochure for Club 99, I realize the man will wear protection against disease and are very average, who you've checked the backgrounds on. But, whoever does this...they will stop when or if I ask them to, right?"
"Say 'red flag', or 'stop' and he will stop, get your signature and leave. Is that okay?"
"It's fine.
"The gift is called 'Visiting Stranger.' We arrange to have you flown to the rendezvous point. It's all private."
\*\*
After she settled in her room at the Tropical-Blainsworth Hotel, a strong tall white male hunk appeared at her door. He looked so sexy in a pair of black dress slacks, a suit jacket, a white shirt and tie. He looked every bit as handsome as Johnny, with raven long hair. His cologne smelled yummy and he looked familiar.
"I'm your gift," he said as he slipped out of his jacket. "I was sent to you by Johnny. I'm Hank. And you're...Sarah?"
She realized they weren't their real names. Her nerves quaked throughout her body; her knees felt like they had turned to jelly. Sex was such a foreign event that happened to everyone else except herself. Now a gorgeous hunk stood before her ready to please her sexually.
"May I?" asked Hank.
She stepped back, grasping the front of her robe, holding it closed thinking that perhaps it had been a mistake to divulge a lot of information and say yes to the gift.
"I've heard from Club 99 that sex has not been a big part of your life for the last ten years."
"Actually no," she said softly. "It hasn't. Mark oh, I don't know, I-"
"In bed he sucked?"
She nodded and frowned. "Yes."
"He didn't take his time?"
"No." Unable to stop, she offered more information. "Evidently his need came out with other women."
"Johnny Brooks must have had it bad for you."
"Yes, and I cared for him."
"He wanted this for you." His dark sienna eyes rose to meet hers. "Do you want to go ahead?"
A long thoughtful pause followed. "I-uh, sure. But I want you to know, I'm not promiscuous. I don't do this with everyone who--"
"I know." Hank's tone made her think that he was a patient but dominating man, like Johnny was.
"You do?"
She had flown all the way to some tropical island located somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean to meet him. Carmine guessed she should relax and enjoy it, whatever "it" was.
"Okay." He looked around the room. "Only if you're sure."
Was he as nervous as she was? "I'm not sure, but I want to go ahead. I can say 'stop' or 'red flag', right?"
"Right, Sarah," he stated as if that was not her real name.
She wasn't used to being called that. "Okay." She guessed she could tell him the BSDM rendezvous wasn't going to happen, go home then spend the rest of her life wondering what sex with such a beautiful man would have been like. He looked trustworthy.
"I thought later we'd start off by having supper, getting acquainted. You know...getting used to each other before we get down to it."
"Uh, yes. That's a very good idea. Fine. I'm-uh-a little nervous."
"Okay...I just checked in. I'm right across the hallway--311. I'll come across the hallway at seven and we'll go get a bite, then maybe come back to the room. Whatever happens, happens. Okay? There's no pressure tonight. We've been traveling." He drew several strands of her long dark brown hair behind her shoulders as if she were a goddess. He made her feel so feminine by touching her softly.
Her mind traveled back to the times Johnny bedded her down. "Yes." Heat rose in her cheeks because of his touch. "That's good that you're not rushing me."
"That's the last thing I want to do." He turned and headed toward the door, stopping only to turn and give her one last seductive gaze. "At seven I'll be knocking on your door."
\*
Getting acquainted, they shared a dinner of crab, rice, pineapple, salad and pina coladas along side the ocean listening to the music of a calypso band. The air was mild and the scent of the ocean, bracing. They watched the pink sky behind a setting sun talking about aspirations, loves and hates. Carmine found out that Hank, earned $6,000 to take her to Jamaica and that it was a one-time deal for him. He was a cop and did it on a dare, if he was telling the truth.
Carmine told him her history; that she was an elected official, about the dream and her deceased boyfriend who bought the trip loaded with sexual pleasure. She didn't give him her real name or name of her hometown.
They talked and got to know each other without letting each other know their real names or the names of their hometown and state just like the contracts dictated.
Hank asked her to dance. With a debonair extension of his hand, he pulled her to her feet and slowly they two-stepped in the white sand until darkness came while he had inserted his nose into her hair.
"I can see why Johnny cared." He reached out and flicked a few stray hairs away from her cheek. "You're absolutely beautiful. I know now why he was so in love with you."
"Thank you."
So hand in hand they walked back to their hotel rooms. No one lingered within sight along the open-air hallway. The rooms possessed balconies that opened to the beach. She was surprised to find that he'd changed rooms.
"We now have adjoining rooms," he stated at her door.
"I see."
Leaning, he kissed her softly with small tastes. His hand didn't leave her waist. His other hand barely touched her cheek, causing her to trust him.
"I won't touch you until you want me to," he whispered. "But, uh, this guy Johnny, he wants me to punish you."
"Punish?" asked Carmine frowning and unsure of the innuendo.
Perhaps it was the way he said the word "punish" or the gleam in his eyes, but she felt she knew him and she had known him for a long time.
"Yes."
"Like how?" "Punishment" was the one thing not fully explained and she failed to inquire that was on the contract.
"I wouldn't hurt you...not for no amount of money. But what I do can is make you feel good. Anytime you want me to stop, tell me and I'll stop."
She sighed. "Punishment, huh?"
"You'll have to trust me even though you barely know me."
She peered into his trustworthy-appearing eyes, then down to her nervously wiggling fingers at her waist. "I'll not lie. I don't know why I consented, but I do need some needs met."
Hank didn't say another word.
"You seem so much like Johnny."
"What makes you say that, Sarah?" he asked his warm breath against her throat.
"All that stuff is made up isn't it?" His lips tickled her skin. "You know about my relationship with Johnny because...I don't know..."
She felt his hand smooth over her taut derriere. "Inside, baby."
"What?"
"Inside the room. Go." Utilizing a firm tone, he pressed her to his granite chest with a spread hand to her buttocks. "I'm your master, understand?"
She blinked, loving it. Only Johnny would have said that. "You are?"
"I expect to be treated as such. It's Johnny's goodbye gift."
"Goodbye gift, huh?"
"That's right. Move it."
The tone worried her a tad, but nevertheless she told him, "Okay...sir."
The time for small talk had ended, she realized when Hank said, "Now...I need you to say that you want me to go on."
Hesitantly she nodded, squashing the dark thoughts that swirled. "Okay, then go on." Then again, it wasn't fear, but arousal that began gnawing low in her belly. Johnny would have never put her in danger.
Hank's voice was low and mesmerizing now. "I'll not hurt you." Quietly he closed and locked the door. He went into the adjoining room and brought in a spare suitcase, opened it and moved to her.
"What's that?"
"Let's get you out of this clothing." Without touching her, his big hands between her breasts, the man who reminded her of Johnny, began unbuttoning her blouse then unzipping her skirt and letting it slide down her silky legs. Most assuredly, she didn't even know his true name. Why was she allowing him to undress her? Perhaps she should insist that he stop. That would be the smart thing to do.
Leaning before her, he snatched her silky clothes off the floor and put them on a nearby chair. Carmine's heart was beating double time as he admired her body with his hands.
She felt his rough fingers slide under the thong, into the crotch area and push them down, letting them slide down her silky legs to below her slender ankles. Carmine realized he was getting turned on as much as she was. She wanted the gift from Johnny.
"Let's get comfortable."
"Now that I'm practically at your mercy, what is this punishment thing that Johnny bought?"
"It's part of the surprise, baby."
Her pussy twitched with anticipation as she let him sweep her back on the bed into the pillows. With deft fingers he removed her bra and tossed it to the chair freeing her breasts from their lacy restraints.
"Are you afraid?" he asked as he massaged her ample curves. "Relax. That's it."
She envisioned his large member penetrating her and relaxed a bit. "A little, I guess."
"Do you want to continue? We can stop you know," he said, lying half-on half-off on top of her, his lips touching hers. Carmine found herself wanting to taste his tongue. Gently, she kissed his taut lips, taking his tongue, not wanting to lie.
"You didn't answer my question."
"I-uh-yes. I want it."
"Fine." He got off her and went to the suitcase. "I've got to prepare, then."
Prepare? "For..."
"You'll see."
"Foreplay?"
Hank merely laughed as he left the room. "It's part of the surprise," he said over his shoulder. "From Johnny," Hank added.
When he returned, stopping only to turn up the lights ever so slightly she saw, he was dressed in crotch less leather pants caressing his sexy body. She admired the hard cock that sprung from his loins. He carried a flogger, a long black cloth that resembled a man's necktie; he wore a mask. Hank climbed on the bed, his knees at each side of her shoulders and began securing her wrists over her head to the headboard of the bed. With two fingers, holding the black tie up, he said, "It's time for... let me show you."
"What is that?"
"A blindfold."
He leaned and picked up another item. "And I cannot forget this item."
She blinked, amazed. "And that is..."
"A ball gag."
"A what...?"
His tone turned stern. "Address me as sir."
Carmine found his cocky answer incredibly arousing. God, men who carried themselves with strength and reassurance turned her on.
"Yes sir."
\*
"Beg me. Say my name."
"Please," she said as she strained against the wrist restraints. "Hank, suck my pussy."
"Be more specific."
"Suck my clit. I want it so bad."
"Things will happen when and how I say," he said as he positioned himself between her parted legs. Carmine gulped in a deep breath much like a swimmer did when they came to the surface after a long swim underwater when his taut lips grasped her engorged miniature penis. After he pressed her back into the pillows, her bottom raised for his mouth, giving him access. Carmine cried out as if in pain, but it was not pain, it was a great torment that shook her to the very core of her being.
Just as she neared a climax, he expertly withdrew his mouth, turned her aside and with the flat of his hand smacked her ass soundly. "Bad girl," he said.
"What did I do?"
"I'm not done with you." Smack! Smack!
Arousal washed through her. She needed his turgid cock in her, to finish her off. The spanking only turned her on more.
Climbing off the bed, he held his cock in his hand in her view and asked, "You're not wanting this, are you?"
Her pussy screamed for it. So did she, unashamedly she pleaded, "Please, sir. Yes. Yes, I do. Do it hard, soft, however you want."
Laughing he climbed back on the bed. "I love control." The weight of his elbow depressed the pillow under her head, Hank's extended finger ran over the bumpy surface of Carmine's aureoles and nipples. "I don't think you're ready for it, are you?" he asked languidly.
"Sir, I am."
"No, Sarah, you're not." His tongue replaced his finger's path. He blew, his breath felt icy on the highly sensitive saliva-wet breasts. And soon enough, his hard dick pressed the outer lips of her cave's entrance. Juices flowed and it became evident, he refused to lead her to a climax that evening.
"The gift goes like this. When I leave you alone tonight, you may not masturbate."
"How're you going to know?"
"I mind read."
He had to be joking. "This is unfair."
"Tomorrow night, baby. Not tonight."
"You're toying with me," Carmine said.
"Sarah, Sarah. You really do want it don't you? You look good enough to eat."
"So why didn't you?" she asked with a newfound brazenness that surprised her.
"I don't want you coming...not yet. By the way if you eventually do want to come, remember to call me sir."
Shamelessly, she turned her head and looked into his eyes in the dim light. "Yes sir."
\*\*
The next morning before breakfast her eyes slit. He stood before her minus the black leather pants that he had worn the previous night. He was nude and with one huge hard-on. In determined silence, he led her into the ivory and gold-toned bathroom, took her under the pummeling showerhead, and washed her vigorously all over, inside and out. Once finished, he lifted her onto a shelf, knelt and resumed feeding on her clit, making her whimper and beg until once again she was on the verge of coming. Writhing, she held his thick brown head in her hands as he kissed the swollen lips swirling around the tip of her standing clitoris, driving her wild. It was all she could do to sit still. Now of highest need, Hank withdrew, as obviously aroused as she was, she noticed. His burgundy cock stood from his loins, hard as a stone statue, surely needing release. He was playing her like a Stradivarius, obviously wanting to bring them both to earth shattering climaxes later. But how much later? God, it had been so long since she had satisfying, quality sex from a hunk such as Hank.
Could he read her mind? "I'm saving the climax." He helped her down and began blotting her mocha colored skin with a towel.
Should she resort to begging? "Please."
His hand flat, he soundly smacked her behind. "Get dressed. We'll go to breakfast. Just remember. You're my slave, woman. When I ask you to do something, then you do it."
Nothing out of the ordinary happened at breakfast. He seemed sweet and soft out in the open amidst the palm trees and the surf at the open air buffet. Normal and easy-going...loveable. It was what happened after breakfast that took her back. In fact, it occurred in the full daylight, in her room that overlooked the aqua and white Atlantic Ocean that he said pointing toward the floor, "Kneel before me." He pointed toward the floor.
She knelt at his feet fully dressed.
"Unzip my pants." He paused thoughtfully. "Do it now."
His abruptness took her back. For a second, she thought of the delicious implications involved. "Sarah, have you ever taken a man's cock in your mouth?"
"Yes sir," she said as she tugged the zipper past the large bulge a fraction of an inch from her fingers.
"Do it again then, babe. All the way."
So she pulled down his boxers, brought out his penis into broad daylight and took it into her mouth so far that she thought she would gag. But once it went so far in, the reflex ended.
"This is a precursor of what you're going to get tonight." His head dropped back as he enjoyed the flat of her tongue running from the base of his cock to its velvety tip. She twirled her tongue around the rim, licked downward toward his balls before she took them all the way in her mouth. The entire time he moaned experiencing obvious bliss. The adventure aroused her and she found herself wanting to bring him to a climax, so she slipped her mouth back over its length and simulated vigorous fucking, sucking and dragging her teeth as she went along. Hank didn't stop her, even as his breathing grew raspy and deep. During one long exhalation, he squirted his pearly juice into her mouth.
Later in the day, after a shower, while still naked, he said, "Oh God, you're beautiful." He drew her to the bed and onto him.
"But I need to--"
"Later you will babe. You're going to learn obedience, first. You'll get your gift tonight if you mind me, and learn, because we go back tomorrow. Unless you want to quit now."
He called coming a gift. "No. I'll go on." If she quit, she'd always wonder what she'd missed.
"Good for you."
Like a school girl, she quivered inside, as she ran her hand down his thick cock as though he were a Greek god. It surprised her how easy it was to become submissive, especially for him. Carmine would hate to say goodbye to Hank. They were just getting acquainted. Johnny, Mark and Hank were the only three men she'd ever been intimate with. Actually, she hadn't fucked with Hank yet, but she expected it to happen shortly. She couldn't remember wanting it more than this weekend with Hank. She bet the Club 99 did a brisk business and she would join as soon as she returned to the states.
After dinner, back in her room with the lights sensuously dim with tantalizing movements, Hank slipped her out of her clothing. He then dressed her in a black lace corset, black stiletto heels and turned her so that he could take in her sexiness. If Hank was his name, which she doubted. In her whole life she'd never felt so sexy. His eyes devoured her body. Carmine applauded herself for having kept her pussy trimmed.
"On the bed with you," he said and smacked her ass. His tone husky, he pulled his shirt from the waistband of his slacks. "We are getting into the punishment phase, Sarah--the main part of the gift."
Lying on top of the smooth green bedspread, she peered at his strong chest and watched as he shoved his boxers down revealing his turgid cock that sprung up like a post to just under her navel--so big that she imagined it'd hurt going in.
"You can stop it now," he offered, "Or do you want to go on?" While waiting for her answer, he brought the suitcase into her room which held the various items; the kinds of items she did not know.
"I would like to go on."
"Good, baby."
"What are those?"
"Instruments of divine pleasure, baby." When he drew out a short black leather fringed flogger and held it up, he asked. "So, seeing this, do you really want to go on?"
Her heart about leapt out of her chest. She thought for a moment. Her voice barely audible, "Go on, I guess, yes." After all, she needed the punishment. Her pussy clenched for it.
"Sir," Hank reminded her.
"Yes sir."
"Worship me tonight, Carmine," her white master said softly.
Carmine? He leaned and reached under a lampshade and darkness devoured the hotel room. Oh no! He knew her! She thought he had called her Sarah earlier.
Carmine heard and smelled the bracing scent of the ocean's lapping gently on the shoreline a hundred or so feet from the open air balcony. Taking a fortifying breath, she prepared herself.
Carmine took in his powerful, silvery physique that hovered over her; his eyes glistened as she peered up into his silhouetted, smiling face. Soundlessly, like a thief he tied her hands above her head to the headboard, a blindfold behind her head and each foot he attached some kind of spreading thing, to keep her legs parted. When he'd finished restraining her, he climbed astraddle her corseted waist and bent down, the weight of him pressing into the mattress at each side. Carmine felt his lips touching hers. Faintly, she felt his tongue parting her lips, causing an old familiar twinge gnawed in her tummy.
"You're a bad girl," he said. "I'm your master. You'll resume using the word 'sir' as I mete out your punishment. Any infraction will up the intensity."
"But, I thought it was a gift."
Hank stated matter of factly, "It is the 'gift' baby, from Johnny. He wanted you to have this, remember?"
"Go ahead." Who was she kidding? She'd die if she didn't get it.
"He was a good guy and he always wondered why you dropped him for Mark."
"So you know me. Do I know you?"
He laughed. "You're so lovely."
What was he reaching for?
"And finally this..." He fit a ball gag into her mouth and secured it at the back of her head. She found the experience highly erotic of having it pushing against her tongue, erotic as though it was readying her for the real thing.
Afterward, he flogged her bound breasts mercilessly. The strap came down on her spread thighs several times lightly.
Smack...! Smack...! SMACK! The flogging continued.
It felt so good.
Below him, she moaned as if in agony and writhed. His strong rough hands moved over her silky skin as he turned her aside and whipped her ass several times, then turned her back. The flogger contacted the outer lips of her pussy and her heaving breasts. Again and again, he did it making her want his cock more and more. Feeling the effects, Carmine ached to experience a climax. The whipping sent blood coursing through her veins.
After putting the flogger aside, Hank took a break and went into the adjacent hotel room, even as she begged him to continue.
She wanted to ask him what he was going to do next, but couldn't.
Minutes later, she heard his re-entry into her room and the hint of fear shadowed her mood. Soon she felt his head moving up and between her thighs, tickling, positioning her for his naughty mouth. With the soft sound of the tide rolling in as a backdrop, Hank sucked her inner thighs as his fingers separated the swollen lips. His mouth and lashing tongue punished her turgid clitoris for many long minutes.
So very much she wanted more of him. "Tongue fuck me...Hank please..."
"Shhhh, my lovely."
Time passed, she didn't know how much time because she lost all track of it as his deeds whisked her away to an indescribably erotic realm. She wanted to cry out his name and beg him to let her come. Tears wet her cheeks and ran to the corner of her mouth. And, when he was finished, he roughly pressed his tongue down her throat while the tip of his sex separated but did not penetrate the lips of her labia. It was a delectable torturous teasing. Carmine moaned in response, straining, lifting her bottom and spreading for his wonderful dominating, controlling mouth. Mm. Bondage! How many times had she dreamed of doing this very thing with Johnny? No wonder he had sent her the gift. Thank you Johnny!
Just short of her climax, Hank withdrew and removed the ball gag.
Silence.
"Hank?"
Silence. Dark quiet, ghostly silence.
The door clunked shut. Had he returned to the hotel room? Something that sounded like ice in a plastic ice bucket rattled.
"Thirsty?"
"Yes, I am."
"I see."
"Are you going to take the blindfold off me?
"Master," he said correcting her.
"Master."
"It stays on."
"I think you should let me come."
"Not until I say you can."
"What?"
"Tonight, I tell you what you can and can't do. So. Do you want to continue?"
It didn't take her long to say, "...yes."
"Good."
The ominous sound of ice clinking on the sides of a glass cut into the on again off again silence.
Treating her with moving deftness, Hank ran a thumb over her lower lip. "Suck it," he ordered. "Run your tongue over it."
"Yes sir." And just like he ordered, she suckled his fingers and licked their tips.
"This is your water."
Greedily she sucked an ice cube that he ran over her lips. Suddenly she felt moist coldness on her throat. It moved down to her puckered, shivering breast and over first one nipple and the other. Leaning over her on the bed, he caught a nipple between his taut lips and tugged. Down the ice ran over her quivering belly as a deep chuckle rumbled in his throat. Over her trimmed mound and down under, the ice cube went into her pussy. Carmine sucked in a breath as he lightly pinched the lips closed, trapping the dripping cube inside her until it melted.
When would he make her come? Did she dare ask?
"And now...for this, baby."
"What?"
She pulled at the bonds, realizing the vicarious situation in which she found herself. "Feel free to tell me to stop." His wonderful hands kneaded them like bread dough.
"Please," she heard herself saying. "I want it."
A cool band of some sort was slipped around a breast. He began winding--around and around each of her breasts giving them equal treatment. She felt them being squeezed. He was binding them.
"And the clamps..."
She moaned lightly wishing she was in a position to jut her breasts up to him offering them.
"Tell me thank you," he said as he stroked her soft shoulder.
"Yes...thank you sir." The word "sir" sounded so foreign to say.
He moved around on the bed until his head and hands moved between her legs. "You will enjoy this, so hold still." He blew on her miniature penis, causing shivers of delight to course through her soul.
"What are you doing?" she asked as he fastened something to her.
"You'll like it, my submissive, slave queen. It's called a stimulator."
"A what?" she asked shakily in disbelief, realizing that she'd never called anyone sir before.
"And you have to put this thing on again. Hopefully, I'm doing it right."
"You really are."
After he put the ball gag back on her he said as he strode away, "I'm going to leave for awhile. Enjoy babe. I will shave and shower."
A couple of minutes later, she sucked in a deep breath and thought, oh my God! The discomfort intensified as did the pleasure. Fully she yielded to him; it felt so damned good.
"No coming. I'll leave it on low and not make you wear the blindfold this time. How's that?"
"Mm-hm."
"That way, when I return, you'll be ready."
He wanted her aroused evidently. But, ready? For what, she wondered. To come? She was ready now.
In her state of helplessness, the mild vibration stimulated the sex at her Y to the core. She heard the door between the rooms close. Although the more she thought about it, what if he'd forget to return? What the hell had she gotten herself in to? The stimulator felt so utterly good.
She loved being dominated. Straining against her bonds, powerless and incapacitated, her breath ragged, Carmine endured the torturous entrapment; the agonizing effects should have struck a note of fear in her heart, but it didn't. It surprised her that the dire situation only made her even hotter than she already was. She loved the mistreatment.
Damn it, he knew Johnny. Call it women's intuition, but she realized that Hank was Johnny's partner she'd heard about many times, but had never met. If she remembered correctly she saw him on one occasion in court. She'd been busy presenting her case to the court and didn't pay that much attention. The next time she saw him, Hank definitely would receive her attention. Oh, of course he was Johnny's partner.
So very much she needed to come, but he insisted she wait and she wanted to please her master.
"There is something Baroque about fucking with the lights on," said Hank. Leaning, Hank flicked the lights on when he entered the room. Carmine's attention shot to him as his eyes feasted on her body. She squirmed under the effects of the stimulator.
"You haven't come have you?" Hank asked in a mock stern tone.
"No sir."
"You better not have."
He detached her from the bar, stimulator and constraints. He removed the blindfold and grasped her black-corseted slender waist.
Carmine was more than ready. In her view, heightening her experience, Hank grasped his cock. One thick drop of come oozed from the tip.
"I want you to look at me when I fuck you."
"I will look at you when I come."
"Call my name. Squeeze my rod with your sex muscles."
"I will."
Hank slid a condom down the thick length of his penis as he stood on his knees between her legs. Hank's rod entered her clenching canal; his thick cock ran deep into her, making her need skyrocket. It touched her heart how gentlemanly it was that he waited for her to become accustomed to his size.
Hank kissed her temple. "Are you all right?" he asked as he toyed with her erect nipples, causing her to whimper realizing that she enjoyed his effort as much as he did.
"Yes." At this point she was desperate. In and out of her he pumped, faster and faster; their bodies moist with perspiration. She would never be the same after receiving 'the gift'. Blood pounded in her ears as her cunt squeezed his cock. A substantial climax rocked her soul. Carmine called Hank's name mindlessly.
But he didn't come. "You climaxed quickly, didn't you?" he whispered hoarsely into her ear. "But you need to do it again, don't you. You're hungry for it, aren't you?"
"Yes sir." And she was needy.
Under his breath he chuckled. "You're such a fuckin' class act."
She adored his loving words. "Now close your eyes and give me a kiss and let's go again." Only Johnny said that when she climaxed the first time of the evening!
"Your eyes are so beautiful," Hank rasped into her ear as her hand lifted to his jaw. He buried his spread fingers in her hair as his mouth covered hers.
The feel of his tongue very gently exploring the recesses of her mouth soon re-aroused her. Liquid heat flowed and re-ignited her passion, re-stoking her carnal hunger. Hank resumed his push and withdrawal rhythm drawing her slowly back up to a breathless re-awakening. Sex with Hank was every bit as good as it had been with Johnny. Their coupling seemed so epochal, so natural that her want compelled her to fuck with Hank again.
Simultaneously, they reached a mind-blowing orgasm. His hot flesh lowered onto her during a breathy exhalation. Soon each of them was lost into their thoughts. Minutes passed. A quiet time. Hank kept his arm around her, holding her close. Or, was he really Hank? She had her doubts.
As though he could read her thoughts he said, "You're right."
She blinked and her brow furrowed. "Did you just read my mind?"
"I did."
"What did I think?"
"You were wondering if I'm Hank; that if I was someone else instead. Well, the answer is yes. I "borrowed" Hank's body for this time with you...this goodbye gift."
Dumbstruck, Carmine turned fully to him, pressing her body, from her breasts down to her thighs to his side. "I don't want you to leave. I was such an utter fool to leave you...I..." A conglomeration of emotion...love, sadness, grief raged within. Tears wet her cheeks.
He ran a soothing index finger in small circles on her shoulder, then turned and looked at her in the darkness for a second. "It was only way I could think of to say goodbye. And I had to tell you goodbye, even after all these years."
"Don't leave." She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. Her conscience clawed at her for how she treated Johnny in the past. She had broken his heart. "I'll stay with you this time."
He reached and flipped off the nightlight on the bedside stand.
"I can't stay, Carmine. As much I want to, but I've got to go. In a few hours you'll be leaving on a jet plane and I'll depart this life for good." Johnny took a deep breath. "I've got to give Hank his body back. And they are waiting for me to crossover."
"Who are they?" she asked then bit her lip.
"I don't know. But I do know I love you very much. Don't ever forget that."
"I won't Johnny." Another thought bothered her. "But why did you arrange this through Club 99?"
"It was the only way I could learn whether you still liked me. You did want my gift. You went to the club and accepted it." He pressed pliant lips to her temple. "I'll go to eternity knowing that you care."
"I don't understand. I--"
He delivered a rough but tender kiss to her waiting, parted lips. "Someday you will."
"I knew it had been a mistake to leave you for Mark." Unready to relinquish him again she said, "I missed you so. I missed everything about you, Johnny."
"Someday we will meet again. I promise. When you awaken, I'll be gone."
The promise sounded unbelievable; she felt him again slipping out of her life. In boneless exhaustion, they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.
The next day she boarded the jet bound for the United States, she looked about the cabin at faces, not seeing Johnny, knowing he had passed on. Perhaps he was right she'd see him again in the hereafter. An elderly gentleman put his carry-on in the compartment above their seats. A child squirmed in his mother's lap. A stewardess help a woman fasten her seatbelt.
Carmine settled back in her seat for the long trip back. She realized that from that moment forward she would not give up relationships that other people thought were wrong for her. Only she knew her own heart and she had to make her own decisions. It was then she saw Hank, Johnny's friend take a seat across the aisle.
He smiled her way. "How are you doing?"
She shook her head, not meaning to, but showing the overwhelming pain. "Just fine."
"Johnny's gone." He seemed to be hurting too.
"Thanks for helping him," said Carmine. She turned her line of vision toward the window and peered toward the wing. Missing Johnny, she closed her eyes and rested her head on a small white pillow looking outside. The goodbye gift given her just before Christmas would remain with her forever.
Goodbye, Johnny. My love for you will always remain in my heart.
Author Bio
Besides writing, Carol enjoys painting with oils and watercolor. She likes to sew and make quilts. At home in the Midwest, she lives with her husband and small dog.

