Killing Johnny Fry (13 page)

“You‘re here to see—Miss Joelle?"

“Yes,” I said, and I made to walk down the aisle toward the third bank of elevators.

“Wait,” he said.

“Wait for what? I always go right up. You know that."

“I have to call."

“Fuck that,” I said, and moved toward the elevators.

As I walked, I heard him ring the intercom bell. He muttered something; I‘m sure it was a warning for Jo, who must have had John Fry up to her place on many weekday afternoons.

But even this did not shake me. I was a bit angry at Robert for being so obvious about Jo‘s indiscretions. He should have let me go and then called so she and John could come up with some kind of plan.

I rode the elevator wondering who I would be when she opened the door and also who she would have become. We seemed to change with every meeting. There was anticipation in my chest and a tap dance in my heart. Who knew what would happen next?

Jo came to the door wearing a semiopaque white dress with nothing underneath. Her pubic hair and large brown nipples were as evident as her smile.

“Hi,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

“Take it off,” I replied.

Without hesitation she pulled the dress up and over her head. I closed the door.

She reached for me, but I said, “Put your hands down."

When she faltered, I said, “Put your fucking hands down and let me look at you."

A smile appeared on her lips and then went away.

As I stared at her lovely form, she began to tremble.

I could feel my nostrils flare. My cock was pressing against the fabric of my pants.

“Will you take off your clothes?” she asked humbly.

“No."

“Can we go into the living room?"

“No."

“You just want me to stand here?” she asked.

“Turn around. I want to see your ass."

“Don‘t talk to me like that,” she said, and I slapped her.

It wasn‘t hard. It couldn‘t have stung. It was just a brief touch with a violent gesture leading up to it. But her eyes opened wide, and she turned around holding her backside high for my inspection.

After a minute or more she said, “L."

“Shut up and lift that ass higher."

When she did as I said, a big grin formed on my face. In my imagination I looked like a hungry hyena about to tear into some dying creature‘s flesh.

This notion frightened me. What was I becoming? For a moment I considered turning around and leaving—never talking to Joelle again.

There was something happening in me that I was barely aware of, some emotion that was forming into actions without my permission or control.

“Spread your ass,” someone said. After a moment I understood that that someone was me.

Jo grasped her buttocks and pulled them slightly.

I slapped her right butt cheek hard and said, “I want it wide open. Wide."

She groaned and pulled her cheeks as far apart as Lucy had.

When I got down on my knees, I noticed that wetness was coming from her vagina, making her inner thighs a slick and shiny brown. I stuck my tongue as deeply as I could into the aperture of her ass.

“Oh my God,” she moaned.

When she tried to move away, I slapped her damp thigh. It made a wet sound, and she yelped.

“Move back on my tongue,” I said.

She did this timidly and moved off an inch—waiting for further instructions. Her breath was coming fast and her toes were gripping and releasing the carpet.

“Fuck my tongue with your ass,” I told her. “Make it go in and out."

At first she went slowly, groaning each time her anus enveloped the tip of my tongue. But then she started going fast and hard. Her groans became barks, and I could tell she was about to come.

I stood up quickly and opened the front door.

“What are you doing?” she asked, straining over the nascent orgasm roiling in her womb.

Without answering, I pushed her out the door and got down on my knees behind her. Instantly she began fucking my face again. The barking returned. She was just about to come when the bell on the elevator rang. She froze, and I rose up behind her, wrapping my arm around her middle.

“Come for me,” I whispered into her ear.

“Oh God,” she whispered hoarsely, and then she forced four fingers into her mouth. She was trembling and screaming into her fingers.

Down the hall, the door of the elevator opened.

I waited until I could see the woman coming out before pulling Jo back into the apartment and slamming the door.

Jo fell on the floor writhing, wrestling with her orgasm.

“Fuck me!” she pleaded. “Fuck me right now!"

She arched up on her feet and shoulders, making a perfect presentation of the bushy mound.

I looked down on her and sneered. Sneered.

“No,” I said, and I walked away into the living room. There I sat on the lush brown leather chair that faced the window. This was Jo‘s favorite chair, the chair that she‘d sit in when she wanted to read or when she needed distance from me. I never sat in that chair. I never touched her when she sat there.

Jo came in and jumped on my lap, straddling me and pressing her breasts against my chest. It felt very sensual for her to be naked while I was fully dressed—down to my shoes.

I threw her off, and she tumbled onto the carpeted floor, only to get up and jump on me again.

I threw her off.

When she was just about to rise, I pointed at her and said, “Stay."

Her eyes widened filled with both rage and desire.

When I grinned, surprised fear came into her visage.

“Please,” she said softly.

I unzipped my pants, allowing the rock-hard erection to emerge.

When she sat up on her knees to regard the cock, I noticed that both of her copper calves were wet from her vaginal discharges.

“You can come look at it,” I said. “But don‘t touch it until I say it‘s all right."

Obediently she sidled up next to me, touching my knee with one hand while letting her other hand and forearm settle gently on my thigh.

“It‘s beautiful,” she said. “It‘s throbbing."

“Dominating you makes him want to sing,” I said in a voice much lower than normal.

“It‘s wet at the slit,” she said.

“He wants to come down your throat."

“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Does he want me to lick off that drop?"

I paused a moment before saying, “No."

“I want to kiss him,” she said. “He‘s so dark and thick and hard."

“He could split your pussy wide open,” I said.

She groaned again.

“Doesn‘t he want me?” she begged.

“Not now."

“When?"

“He won‘t say."

“But he‘s going to fuck me soon isn‘t he?"

“Not this afternoon,” I said, and she whimpered pitifully. “He has other things on his mind."

“What?” she asked. “What is he thinking?"

“He‘s thinking about a man standing behind you. A man with a huge hard cock. A man who wants your pussy as much as you want this cock right now."

Putting her hands against both my knees, she got to her feet, her head not more than an inch from my straining member. Her butt was Up in the air in preparation for the man I spoke
of.

My heart was pounding then. It was difficult for me to maintain my dispassionate tone.

“His cock is thicker than mine and more than twice as long."

“Oh yes,” Jo whispered. “I want it."

“And suddenly,” I said, “without warning, he plunges the whole thing in you, all the way in."

Jo began to come again. She moved her hips from side to side and leaned forward to take my cock into her mouth. But I put my hand against her forehead to hold her off.

“He‘s pounding against the backs of your legs with his muscle-hard thighs,” I said. “You can feel it all through you."

I perceived a light in the dome of my skull. It was bright yet not at all an optical experience.

“L!” Jo shouted.

When I looked down, I saw the thick white come erupting from my dick. It was shooting up and running down the shaft. The light was getting brighter, and I experienced very little physical sensation. All I felt was my ass clenching, squeezing out the great quantity of come.

Jo‘s head was pressing against my hand, trying to get at the ejaculation, but I held her off. It seemed so perfect to have an orgasm without any tactile sensation.

Jo rolled onto the floor, grabbing at her pussy with both hands.

I stood up and looked down her rocking from side to side, grimacing as if there was something inside her that she was trying to pull out. A thick dollop of milky white semen leaked from my cock onto her cheek.

I went to the bathroom. There I dampened a washcloth and wiped the sputum from my pants. Then I held the still-hard penis in my left hand and washed it gently with my right. I stood there rubbing the rough cloth lightly upon the oversensitized skin of my manhood. It looked beautiful to me. It felt connected to every7 part of my being.

I had a college education. I learned that human beings were sexual creatures. But I had never experienced that knowledge. At that moment I knew that every step of my life was leading to this tableau. It wasn‘t about Jo. It wasn‘t about her affair with Johnny Fry. That‘s what started it, but the door that trauma opened led to another place completely.

I laughed.

There I was, dick in hand, philosophizing about sexuality.

“What‘s funny?” Joelle asked.

When I looked at her, I could feel the cock stiffen. And also I became aware of a sharp pain in my head that had been there since that light shone in my mind.

“Get dressed,” I told her.

“Aren‘t we going to bed?” she asked, the disappointment all over her face.

“My head hurts and I‘m hungry,” I said. “I haven‘t eaten yet today."

“I need to fuck somebody, Cordell Carmel."

“Get dressed."

She gasped and then smiled.

“Didn‘t you hear me?” she asked.

“If you don‘t cover that ass, I will turn you over my knee and give you something to complain about.” The familiar words fell easily from my lips. I could almost hear my father‘s voice a room or two away, down the hall.

I suppressed the urge to go look for him.

Instead I took a step toward Jo, intent on making my promise real. She yelped and jumped away. Within three minutes she returned wearing a plaid skirt and pink blouse. She had on black high heels and no hose. I couldn‘t tell if she was wearing underwear.

“Let‘s go,” I said.

She put her arms around me and kissed me. Then she looked into my eyes.

“What‘s happening to you?” she asked.

“You."

“What do you mean, me?"

“Let‘s go,” I said again, and she began to cry.

The tears weren‘t from sorrow or pain. It was just too much feeling. She felt like I did: like a cork on a rushing river, like a plastic bag caught in an updraft, finding itself thousands feet above the ground.

I took her by the arm and pulled her toward the door.

“I can‘t go out like this,” she said.

“Sure you can. It‘s just your heart beating.” I had no idea what I was saying. But my words seemed to mean something to her. She grabbed my arm with both hands and pressed her head against my shoulder.

As we went out the door, I felt that there was more love between us than there had ever been—more love than there ever would be again.

We walked out of the building with her head on me, her tears running down my breast.

“My toes feel numb,” Joelle was saying. “It‘s what you do to me. It‘s just like . . . crazy good."

We were walking up Broadway a little past four in the afternoon.

“I have the worst headache that I‘ve ever had in my life,” I said.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked.

“The dome,” I said. “Right up in the top. It feels like it‘s gonna explode."

Jo pulled on my arm, and we stopped. She got in front of me and began massaging my temples with the fingers of both hands. We stood there in the middle of the street facing each other sensually while dozens of people walked around us, furtively glancing at the shameless lovers.

“Is this helping?” she asked.

“It feels great,” I said. “And I don‘t really mind the headache."

I took both her wrists in my hand and we walked half a block.

She didn‘t resist the handcuff grip.

When I let go, she put both arms around me, hugging me as we went.

Cicero‘s is a small Italian restaurant above 93rd on Broadway that doesn‘t close between lunch and dinner. The waiter seated us at a corner table in the back of the empty dining room. I ordered a plate of antipasto for two and a carafe of red wine.

Jo sat close to me and held my hand. Now and then, she‘d kiss my puffy knuckles. Whenever she did this, my erection throbbed under the table. It felt like a moan, like movement under the ground.

“Are we going back to my place after we eat?” she asked, after the waiter served our sliced meats, cheeses, and olives.

“I need you to wait until tomorrow,” I said.

“I can‘t wait, baby,” she said. And when I didn‘t answer, “My pussy is throbbing."

“Is it wet?"

“Yes. Very, very wet."

“It was dripping down your leg while I was licking your ass,” I said.

“When I was fucking your face with my ass,” she said correcting me.

“I never saw you that wet,” I continued.

“Please stay with me tonight,” Jo pleaded.

“Will you go fuck someone else if I don‘t?"

“No, baby,” she said. “There‘s no one but you."

“How can I be sure of that?” I asked, trying to sound playful.

“Why would you even think such a thing?"

“You‘re a sexy woman, Jo. I only just realized how hungry you are for love and sex. In the park, in the hall, in your ass. How can a woman like that have just one man?"

“I did all that with you."

“But what about the last eight years? Eight years, and all we had was straightforward intercourse. Missionary position and, every once in a while, doggy-style. That‘s not much."

“Your wine,” the waiter said. He was standing there next to us. He‘d probably heard me. “Shall I pour?"

“just leave it,” I told him.