The Forest Bull (17 page)

             
“Ring, meet Marcus. Marcus, Ring. The knockout drinking like a twelve-stepper is Wally.”

Wally
waved carelessly, her nose buried in another glass of red wine. Risa indicated he should come over to the living room, which he did, albeit slowly. Wally caressed his face as he passed, winking lasciviously. “And please ignore her trashy behavior. She’s got quite the glow from Sandrine, the escort Ring popped in your hotel tonight, by the way, so she’s even more randy than usual.” She rolled her eyes to indicate this was not a unique situation.

             
To Marcus’ credit, he didn’t blink but merely sat on the cushion next to Suma and looked awkwardly at each of us in turn.

“Sandrine?
The French girl? She’s dead?” he asked, worry on his face. “You killed her? I knew something wasn’t right about her. Knew it.”

             
I nodded. “I wouldn’t call her a girl, exactly. But yes, she’s dead, I killed her, and I assume that you’re not here for just a cold one?”

I raised an eyebrow at Risa
, inviting her to elaborate where Marcus could not. Wally belched and stretched with an erotic groan. Quite the lady. Suma snickered and then caught herself, focusing on our guest.

             
“Marcus was in the hotel lounge, but he wasn’t working. He’s not a true Helper, either, not like we understand. He’s sort of a . . . groupie? Or a really enthusiastic fan of a particular lady. Right, Marcus?” Risa inquired politely. “Why don’t you start with how you got here? Then we can move on to other details, okay?”

She was being overly polite. I distrusted that voice; it reminded me of her interrogations about my use of her towels.

              Marcus gathered his thoughts for a moment. You could see the wind filling the sails of a narrative in his mind, and then he spoke.

             
“I’m from Chicago. I’m a-- well, it doesn’t matter what I did. I was a nobody, but I made an okay living. My wife left me two years ago for some shithead from Colorado who wore a buckskin jacket, for Chrissakes, and to boot he had a--”

             
“
Marcus!
” I snapped. “Let’s focus on the other aspects of your story, m-kay?”

Sui
tably reprimanded, he continued, “Okay, so I’m single. No wife, no dog, living in some kind of country song. I’m on a cold streak with women, like I’m a penguin, I couldn’t even get a look from the maid at my gym. So after about a year of that shit, I do something I’ve never done before.” He paused, sipping his beer.

             
“You called a pro, right?” Wally spoke up from the floor where she lay supine, her feet in Risa’s lap. She knew men.

             
“Err, right. But I wasn’t about to bring some streetwalker into my house, so I looked around online a little, you know, just doing my homework. I’m an insurance actuary. Or I was. I know about risk.” Marcus explained.

“That explains your shoes
. Gah!” Wally piped up from the floor. Risa slapped her foot, hard. They glared at each other for a second and then fell back toward the conversation. Suma snickered again, clearly enjoying the fray. I remained dignified, as I always am. Ask anyone.

Marcus, unmoved by Wally’s fashion criticism, pressed on. “I have a buddy at work. Derek.
Or had, rather. He’s dead.” We all knew what was coming, but we let him continue. Only notes of the story would differ, but the tune would be familiar.

“He whored around on his wife all the time, so I asked him if he knew of a girl, you know, who was available.
A sure thing. So he told me there was an escort he’s been drooling over and that he would have her break me in the right way, in his words. She was
expensive
but when I saw her picture I thought it would be worth every penny. Only problem was, we had to travel to her, which was no worry for me, I didn’t have anything to do, and Derek said he’d pay for my ticket. So we plan it out. Or Derek did, anyway. We arranged to meet her at a hotel bar for a drink. Derek set it up and he knows his shit, so he got a room upstairs.”

“What did she look like?” Suma interjected.  Wally stood up
to grab the wine bottle, intrigued. We all were by now.

“Hot. Oh my God
, was she hot. Blonde. Short. Tanned. Killer body, smelled like heaven and the angels all together. She looked kind of like you, Wally,” He added. Wally curtsied, while Risa grimaced. “She was so far out of our league I almost couldn’t look her in the eye. Her teeth were blinding. Even her hands were perfect. I felt like an idiot, sitting with her at the table, but she talked and flirted like we were old friends. Shit, I was hooked. I mean
really
hooked in, like, ten seconds. Her accent made me insane. I could’ve been happy listening to her reading an aspirin bottle.”

“Describe her accent, Marcus.
Again, if you would?” Risa asked.

“It was southern. But not l
ike, redneck, you know, I mean . . .” he struggled to articulate the finer points of southern dialects. “She said she was from the Garden District, whatever that means.”

“New Orleans. Louisiana.
High class brood mares out of there.” I said, earning a punch from Wally. “So how did this
date
proceed?”

“Right, New Orleans. That’s where we ended up.”
Marcus took a long pull on his beer. “Like I was saying, I went up first. She already had a suite. Beautiful, way over my pay grade, just like she was. She kissed me and bent my mind; I mean I just about fainted. In about a minute, I was on the bed, nude--hey, is this part okay? You want details?” he hesitated, turning shy.

“It’s okay;
these are my lovers. Feel free to hit us with the good stuff,” I stated flatly and then gave him a mock salute when his eyebrows went skyward. We get that reaction a lot.

Sliding his eyes from Wally’s legs, Marcus continued. “Well there aren’t many details.
At least, not with me. She lay upside down on the bed with her head over the side and I . . . I had trouble with my lift-off, if you know what I mean. I tried to concentrate on her face and her perfect tits. I mean, they were world-beaters, but, when I thought it wasn’t happening for me, I focused on this green necklace sitting in her cleavage. It shimmered constantly. I mean, what wouldn’t if your camping spot was in the most beautiful valley of all time, right? Anyway, I was
pissed
. I think she was just too insanely hot for me, and I felt like a kid getting taught a lesson by some cougar. Anyway, she was so sweet, and she said that we would see each other again and that she would make it right. Blew my gaskets right there to think about being with her
again
. And, after I went downstairs, that’s when Derek headed up. Looking back, that’s the point where things really start to get weird.” he paused in remembrance.

“A question: h
ow long was it before Derek went up to her room?” Suma asked. I wasn’t sure where she was going with that topic, but I listened, anyway.

“Right away.
And he was up there for, like, an hour and a half. I knew he was a stud, but come on. That’s world record stuff, right?” he gazed at me expectantly. I demurred and looked at my feet. He didn’t know what Wally and Risa were capable of doing to a man. Or each other.

“Was Derek able to complete his
‘lift-off, as you say?” Risa asked as seriously as possible, given the subject matter.

“And
how
,” Marcus enthused. “Derek said she was not just the best ever, but better than he could have imagined, like legendary. And he said she was really into him, ever since their first phone call, and we should come see her at her other place. You know, stay awhile.”

Risa and Wally groaned. I laughed outright. Suma looked confused until
I explained. “Let me get this straight. You and Derek left Chicago to fly a thousand miles to see a high class hooker because
she was really into both of you
? Is it amateur night? Aren’t you professionally trained to assess risk? Am I wrong in finding this hilarious?” I finished with a derisive hoot, looking around at our collective stunned faces.

Marcus
rubbed his face and shook his head. “I know, I know. And we did. But once we were there, she really took care of us. It was like we were visiting princes.”

“Or cattle.” Risa interjected.

“Right.” Marcus admitted. “I used all my vacation time for her,” he finished mournfully.

“Why didn’t you leave?
Other than being comatose from the attentions of Goldibox?” I asked, inwardly pleased with my phrasing. I laughed alone. No one understood my comedic touch.

“It was the details, man. She kept us in one of her places
--she had four. I wasn’t surprised; with that body, she could afford a castle if she wanted it. She would have a car bring us over one at a time--me during the day, Derek at night. Four, five hours of her and me. She knew my favorite foods, cooked like a chef. Or her staff would cook. Either way, best food I’ve eaten. Greeted me at the door with thirty year old whiskey that I couldn’t afford, but have loved since I first tasted it on my honeymoon. Fed me sliced fruit, gave me massages, hot baths, shit you only dream about. And then on top of all that, the sex.” He sighed heavily with memory. “I learned about things the human body can do but shouldn’t. I felt my legs go numb and my face tingle at the same time, and, sometimes, she did it with one hand. See my eye?” he asked, pulling his eyelid back and turning to show us. Blood still filled the corner where vessels had burst.

“Conjunctive hemorrhage.
Impressive. How’d that happen?” I asked. When I realized everyone was staring at me, I clarified my astute observation. “What? I read occasionally.” My genius was met with skepticism.

“In the best carriage ride in the history of carriage rides, that’s where. She had a horse drawn antique carriage
pick us up. We’re under these old oaks, the breeze smells like flowers, and she goes down on me. Right there! I’m looking up at this Spanish moss swaying, and I thought I was dying, that’s how hard I got off. When I regained consciousness, she’s sitting next to me, smiling, and I’ve got an eye that looks like a ruby made of jelly. I mean, seriously, I passed out from her mouth.”

“That’
s not unheard of,” Risa quipped. Marcus looked at her with amazement and me with newfound respect.

“Other than your eye, did you have any health problems from being with
her? Dreams? Anything weird?” I wanted to ferret out the nature of this sexual dynamo from New Orleans.

“Me, no
,” Marcus said, finishing his beer and setting the bottle down. “But Derek was in trouble. He stopped sleeping. We were only there for a week, but I don’t think he slept at all. He looked like shit, but I rarely saw him, she kept us so tied up with her, and, sometimes, she had a car take us into the city to do cool stuff, things that were really local and-- personal. Like she was sharing her life history with us. It felt like she knew everything that had ever happened in the city. And she said she wanted us for herself, that she enjoyed our spirit and didn’t want any of her sisters or family coming around. I got the feeling their family dinners must be like Armageddon.”

That was closer to the truth than he knew. Derek
was immersed in the thought if this woman. It was uncomfortable to witness, knowing she had killed his friend. And many others, no doubt.

“Derek
started to fade. He was really pale. She put us on a plane to go home, and neither of us wanted to. Who would? It was like leaving Eden and Aphrodite for the suburbs of Chicago. Derek didn’t talk much on the plane, he was too tired. He said she just fucked him every night, nothing crazy, but that he couldn’t tell when he was awake or asleep. It didn’t matter, she was still there, naked, on him, and he couldn’t stop.” His eyes rimmed with tears. “He died in the car on the way home. I was thirty seconds from a hospital, but they couldn’t save him. He was thirty-four.”

The room was stilled by the m
emory of a man we had never met but a story we knew only too well. We stalled a moment to give Marcus time to regain his composure.

“And then you followed her here for the sex?” Wally
asked, her voice soft with compassion.

“No, nothing like that” Marcus replied, his voice leaden. “I followed her here to kill her.”

From Risa’s Files

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