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From: "Rogue Writer" <roguewriter@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Trust Comes Easy pt 4 (FF, FFF) Author: Rogue Writer
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Date: Mon, 09 Apr 2007 14:10:02 -0400
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TRUST COMES EASY part 4
By Rogue Writer

(FF, FFF, exhibitionism, non-consensual, toys, threesome, drugs,
violence, death, destruction of a high-grade printer)

AUTHOR NOTE:  If you like this hilariously grim little tale, read some
of my other equally uninspired fiction:

After the Party
Daphne's New Life
How I Spent My Summer Vacation by Carol Hitchcock
A Death, Baked Bob, and the Personal Ad
Screwing My Ex

They came out in that order, and according to one reader, I got better
as I went along, so do yourself a favor and read them in that order to
avoid getting disappointed by my early lack of skills.  Please send
feedback to roguewriter@hotmail.com.

DISCLAIMER: Pay attention!  This story is fiction and not meant to do
anything more than entertain, don't read this stuff with any intention
other than having a good time, don't take life too seriously and don't
swim after you've just eaten.  Isn't it stupid that I have to write
these warnings in case someone goes out and does something bad because
of what they read in my story?  What's happened in our society to
cause this?  I know, I know, lawsuit-happy people and the lawyers who
run commercials that inspire them.  Now you have to put warning labels
on everything.  And I understand that some things need warning
labels.  Hydrochloric acid - big warning label on that one.  With
letters four feet tall.  But I don't need a cup of coffee with a
warning label that says it's hot.  I know it's hot.  I wanted it hot!
Well, not that hot.  I take it light, actually.


IV. When It All Comes Crashing Down

18.
Monday morning.  Both Maggie and Kaye had left for work, one with a
secret mission Amanda had given her, the other with no idea what was
about to happen.  Which left Amanda sitting alone in the apartment,
basking in the glow of her own brilliance by masturbating.  She sat
naked on the couch and stroked her breasts, squeezing her globes and
pinching her nipples.  This is what people with power do, she
thought.  They orchestrate events.  Play chess with living breathing
people.  Make others do things against their will because, unlike
those with power, they have no choice.  Most of all, people with power
destroy their enemies, and Amanda considered Kaye an enemy because she
took someone as bright and focused as Maggie and turned her into a
house pet.  On Tuesday she'd leave a videotape as promised, but it
would be blank.  The real one would find it's way onto the Internet.

Amanda took a cube of ice from the glass of vodka on the table and
sucked off the alcohol, then brought it down to her right tit and let
out a small gasp as it touched her skin.  She ran it in circles around
the areola, slowly shortening the circumference until the harsh cold
touched her sensitive nipple.  Her hand took the cube away and then
brought it back a few times as she reveled in the sensation.  Finally
she took the cube into her left hand and played with the other nipple
while her right hand moved down between her legs, finding the moisture
she knew would be there.  Amanda didn't need anyone else to give her
what she needed.  Daddy had always taught her to be self-reliant; it
was one of his most important lessons.

In the early days Daddy taught Amanda how to play chess.  It was
essential, he said, because life is like the chessboard, with pieces
ranging in importance and moves that changed every game.  Then Daddy
would take her to work and she'd follow him around the used car lot,
watching him make deals and decisions as he spoke to customers,
employees, and people of influence.  Secretly manipulating some,
directly aggressive with others, like he was playing chess with real
people.

He was so was intelligent and resourceful, so unlike Mother.  She
spent her time hosting benefits for various causes, trying to help
people who were too weak or stupid to do for themselves.  Daddy
secretly called her 'The Useless Twit', and once said the marriage was
simply a consolidation of family money.  It was a Smart Move, he said,
because love only made people stupid.  Many of these lessons had been
passed down from his father and his father's father before him, and
Daddy wanted a son to keep the family tradition.  But The Useless Twit
had bore only a daughter, and after that decided to adopt because
'there are already so many unwanted children in this world'.  Intent
on having his own blood be the receiver of the family tradition, Daddy
started teaching Amanda.

She was able to watch the lessons in action as Daddy's single car lot
expanded to several across the state, and soon he counted the
governor, successful entrepreneurs, and other people of power and
privilege as his close friends.  Daddy's money and influence gave him
contracts to supply vehicles to local towns, supported a senator into
office, and even stopped a highway from being built near a
competitor.  His empire became so powerful that when Amanda was
seventeen and hit another car while drunk driving, she was never
arrested and the people she injured never sued.  No record of the
incident appears in any file anywhere.

By now Amanda had dropped the ice and had a finger in her pussy and
her thumb rubbing her clit.  Her other hand cupped her breast and
brought it up towards her mouth, sticking out her tongue to where it
just touched the nipple.  The double sensation drove her insane with
lust, for there was no one she enjoyed pleasuring more than herself.
She looked at the strap-on sitting on the table and remembered
yesterday, when she'd used it to help her drive a wedge between Maggie
and Kaye.  Or at least it would have if Maggie didn't have such a
stubborn, idiotic devotion to her girlfriend.  Amanda pulled her hand
from her cunt and grabbed the toy, quickly removed the plastic phallus
from the harness and gave it a cursory lube job with her mouth before
she brought it between her legs and slowly pushed it inside.  A moan
emitted from her mouth as she felt it fill her up, and moments later
she began to pump it in and out, slowly at first, while the other hand
rubbed her clit in unison.  Quick thinking and a compromise had saved
her plan to take Maggie with her.  Amanda may have perfected her
timing while pulling cons in South America, but the groundwork always
lay in Daddy's lessons.

Amanda had applied those lessons early in life.  In the sixth grade
she used false rumors to start a spat between two friends, thus
helping her get into the most popular clique around.  In high school
she seduced teachers, both male and female, to boost her grades in
subjects where she was getting anything less than an A-.  And once,
right before field hockey tryouts, Amanda slipped regular milk into
the drink of her rival, who was lactose intolerant.  It wasn't that
Amanda didn't work hard for these things; she always gave one hundred
and twenty percent to any goal she set.  But, as Daddy pointed out,
sometimes your best isn't good enough, and in this highly competitive
world there are times when you need to create your own luck.  That's
where the lessons came in.

The final lesson Amanda learned happened when she went to visit her
father just after college graduation.  By then the Useless Twit had
left him because of not one but two paternity suits from mistresses.
Then there was the Federal investigation into corruption, causing all
his influential friends to avoid him.  He had nothing but a lawyer on
his side when the divorce and paternity suits went to court, and that
didn't go well at all.  Daddy's empire had collapsed.  He was
financially strapped and in a week he had to report to jail.

They played chess in silence for a while, until he beat her using a
knight he had put into a corner early in the game.  Daddy explained
this would serve as the final lesson for Amanda, and the lesson was to
keep an eye on all the players still on the board.  Once again he used
a real life example to illustrate - he'd found out that a third
mistress put the authorities on his tail when he dumped her a year
earlier.  She was a piece he had ignored, and she was the one that
sent him into checkmate.

When Amanda went to bed her father was still in his office and it's
where she found him the next morning, hanging from one of the rafters
by a piece of cord.  Pinned to his tie was a small note.  Amanda
walked up to her father and read it.

A person of power decides when his own life comes to an end.

Amanda cried.  It wasn't out of hurt, but of pride and admiration.
Her father had kept his power by not letting others decide how he'd
live the rest of his life.

She rocked back and forth on the couch now, riding her orgasm like an
out of control bull, letting it ripple through her body until she
collapsed sweaty and out of breath.  And suddenly she was crying.  She
hadn't lived up to Daddy's expectations.  She had become a
disappointment.  She had no power, at least not yet.  Amanda gained
control of herself and wiped away her tears.  "Soon Daddy," she said
as she looked up at the Rembrandt.  "Soon."


19.
Monday morning I drove to work in a daze.  I was going to kill Amanda;
there were no more doubts about that now.  Aside from what she had
done to Kaye, Amanda thought she could force me to leave with her, to
live the rest of my life as her plaything.  And that just wasn't going
to happen.  But I was faced with the same problem I had when the idea
first came to me - what was I going to do with her body?  And I still
wasn't even sure how to kill her in the first place.  It had to be in
a way where she couldn't overpower me and I wouldn't freak out in the
middle of the act.  Not to mention I had to figure this out by
tomorrow morning.  The more I thought about all of it the more panic
crept through my body, causing numbness in some parts and pain in
others.

I barely remember stopping for coffee, and it tasted metallic and
bitter when I drank it.  As I drove I looked at people in other cars,
walking the streets, going about their business just like it was
another day.  No more of those for me.  It felt like a million years
since Friday, when I was blasting my stereo and screaming out the
window in joy.  When I saw a sign for the highway on-ramp I felt a
sudden urge to get on it and keep driving.  Right out of the state.
Leave all this bullshit behind and find someplace to start over, like
I did so many years ago.

But that was just a passing fantasy of nervous frustration.  I could
never leave Kaye behind, even though she might leave me when this was
all over.  Besides, running was Amanda's way, not mine.

When I got to work there was a project meeting, and some people from
the sales team were present.  The sales department drops in
occasionally to see if we geeks in R&D have overlooked the marketing
potential of what we considerer a failure.  Dick, my boss, started the
meeting, but I barely paid attention to the proceedings since I might
not be there the next day.  If I didn't find a good way to kill
Amanda, I'd have to leave with her to protect Kaye.  If I didn't
dispose of her body properly, I'd be in jail.  And if by some miracle
I succeeded in pulling it all off, I was going to call in sick.

"Potassium cyanide, right?" Dick asked.

Oh shit, he was talking to me.  "What?"

He sighed.  "That's what you used.  Could you explain why for our
visitors?"

"Oh, sure.  I used potassium cyanide because..." My eyes went wide and
my jaw went slack, and then I was silent for a while.  I'm not sure
for how long, but it was long enough for everyone to look at me like I
was doing something interesting.  But I had no idea they were there,
no idea I was staring off into space.  Because for the first time in a
while, the proverbial light bulb sparked to life over my head.  "It's...
lethal."

Everyone stared at me like I'd just farted.  Dick threw his hands in
the air.  "Not my first choice, but yes, it can be if ingested.  Which
is why we use warning labels on our products."

The lead sales guy said, "Good to hear.  Someone write that down,
please."

The room busted out in laughter.  That shook me out of my trance and I
waved it off.  "Sorry, didn't get much sleep last night."

Dick looked at me.  "Care to take another shot?"

I went on to give the real explanation so the sales people didn't
think I was trying to kill the customers.  When I finished someone
asked a question and I answered it and then the focus shifted to
someone else.  That's the last I remember of the meeting, because
suddenly I knew how I was going to kill Amanda, and how I was going to
dispose of the body.  I even realized how I could get rid of her
stuff, which I hadn't even thought of.  All of a sudden I had a plan,
one that made me feel like I could have my cake and eat it too.

Part of the plan still involved leaving my job, and by two o'clock I
was driving away from that place for the last time.  I'd quit before
lunch, and it was as uncomfortable as expected.  But I was surprised
to find that within my fake reasons for leaving there was plenty of
truth - I was overworked, underpaid, treated like a monkey despite
showing good leadership skills, and thanks to office politics my
chances for a promotion were slim.  No matter how the next morning
worked out I'd be better off with a different gig.

But it wasn't all roses.  Part of my plan involved doing something
that I felt like shit about before, during, and after I did it.  I'd
timed quitting and packing my stuff so that I could do it in the
middle of lunch, and when I walked into the storage lab Maya was at
her desk like I knew she'd be.  She was a thin Hispanic girl around my
age, with long curly black hair and some nice curve to her.  I usually
spent my lunch hour with Maya because she was the assistant to a jerk
named Frank, who usually went out for lunch.  Many suspected he spent
the time with another employee who was not his wife.  Since the
storage lab had to be manned at all times, this left Maya to spend
lunches like she was now, at her desk.

"Hey," she said when she saw me.  "What's with the box?"

"I quit."

Her eyes bugged out of their sockets.  "You're kidding?  Why?"

"Lots of reasons."  I stole a glance at the door.  "And I'm not
looking to get into them right now.  What I am looking to get into,
before I leave this place, is the storage room."

Maya's face broke out in a wide, and slightly nervous, smile.  "You
serious?"

I smiled and cocked an eyebrow.  Maya gave a quick glance to the door,
and then she pulled a huge ring of keys from inside her desk and
practically bounced to the door on the other side of the room.  I
followed her, hoping she didn't think it was funny that I brought my
box with me.

When we were inside Maya brought the door to an inch of being shut.
"Just in case someone comes," she said.  I put my box down and we just
stood there for a moment.  Surrounding us were shelves and
refrigerators, all holding chemicals, all locked in cages or with
padlocked doors.  But that's not why we were there; at least that's
what Maya thought.  I stepped up to her and kissed her lips lightly,
and repeated that twice before I started worrying that this wasn't
working for her.  Maya is straight, but confessed to me that she'd
recently started thinking about trying it out with a woman.  I told
her I'd be willing to be her first, since Kaye and I discussed having
an open sexual relationship.  When I told Kaye it might happen she
approved, as long as I shared all the juicy details.  She even
suggested that if Maya liked it she could be our first threesome.
Maya had confessed to me that her fantasy was to do it at work, in the
storage closet where she spent so much time.  That way when she was
doing inventory her memories of having sex there would break up the
monotony of the work.

Suddenly Maya responded by kissing me back with more force than I
expected.  It seemed an odd contrast, as I could smell her perfume,
something lilac I think, and feel her amazingly soft lips.  She put
her arms around me and pulled me tight to her.  I put my hands to her
face and caressed her skin as the kissing became more passionate and
tongues got involved.  When her hands grabbed my ass and roughly
kneaded my cheeks, I remembered an observation I'd made during my
escort days about first-timers, and how some of them handled me the
way men had probably handled them.

I broke the kiss and separated our bodies.  Maya had a questioning
look on her face, at least until I started to unbutton her blouse.  At
first she smiled, then our eyes locked and her face changed to a look
of primal lust that made me forget my real intentions here.  As I
pulled her blouse open I went in for another kiss and rubbed my hands
over her bra-clad breasts.  Then I pulled away again as I slipped her
blouse off and continued to massage her tits.  Maya reached back and
unclasped her bra, my fingers pinched the cups and pulled them away as
she dropped the straps off her shoulders.  Her globes were perfectly
rounded, with dark brown areolas that I reached out and caressed as I
went in for another kiss.  Maya's tongue invaded my mouth this time,
and her passion for the moment was almost physical in the moan she
made in my mouth.  I pulled away and kissed down her neck, licked her
upper chest and then settled on her right nipple.  It hardened in my
mouth, and I gave it a nibble before opening wide and sucking at her
whole tit.

"Ohhhh, ohhh yes."

My mouth sucked more of her flesh and Maya put her hand to the back of
my head, pushing me further in.  I used my hand on her other breast,
pinching and pulling at the nipple, caressing the underside of the
globe, and just doing whatever I could to turn her on.  Then I pulled
my mouth away from her right tit and went to suck on the left.  At the
same I brought my hands down to her legs and pulled up her dress until
I could get my hands on her legs.  She backed away and I kept with her
as we awkwardly moved until her back was against a wall.  I moved my
hands along the bare skin of her legs, moving up slowly as I got to
the flair of her hips, finally bringing them together on the triangle
of material that covered her mound.

I gave her nipple one last lick as I straightened up and brought our
mouths together again.  Maya's hands started caressing my breasts
through my top, and it took a little effort on my part to break the
kiss and say, "You ready for this?"

There was a desperate look on her face as she nodded vigorously.  I
got to my knees and before I could pull up her skirt Maya unclasped
the side and it dropped to the floor, revealing a pair of blue G-
string panties.

"Uh huh," I said as I looked up at her.  "Somebody likes feeling
naughty at work."

Maya giggled.  I rubbed my hands around her hips and down her legs and
back up to her crotch.  She cooed, and then let out a sigh.  Leaning
in, I kissed the fabric a few times, then grabbed it and slid it off
slowly.  She was practically shaved; there was only an artfully
crafted wisp of hair on her mound.  I kissed it, then gave it a few
long, slow licks before I used my thumbs to open her flower.  Maya
spread her legs apart to give me better access, and I put my lips to
her sensitive flesh and kissed and sucked at it.

"Oh!  Dios Mio!" she cried.

I brought my hand up between her legs and ran my fingers along her wet
slit.  Maya jumped a little at the sensation.  While my fingers got
good and covered I licked and probed with my tongue, and when her clit
showed itself I sucked on it like a little Popsicle.  Maya cried out,
and that's when I slowly moved one finger inside of her.  Her back
pressed against the wall harder as I started fucking her, soon adding
a second finger.

"More!" she cried.  I complied and sent a third finger in.  Maya
started rocking so hard against my fingers that it was hard to keep my
mouth on her.  Eventually she slowed down and that's when I sucked
hard on her clit while pressing my fingers up inside of her.  And
that's when she squirted on me, gushing her juice all over my hand.

"Oh!" she said as she tried to catch her breath.  "Sorry, I didn't
warn you.  I do that."

Suddenly Frank's voice called from the outer room.  "Maya?"

For the second time in twenty minutes, Maya's eyes bulged out of her
skull.  "Fuck!" she said.  I put a false look of surprise on my face,
since this is what I had been counting on.  Maya got her bra and
blouse closed quickly, pulled up her skirt and dashed to the door
where she stopped to compose herself quickly and walked out.  "Hey
Frank, how was lunch?"

She did exactly what I hoped she would do.  In her panic she left the
keys behind.  I grabbed them and found the cage with the potassium
cyanide, unlocked it with the third key I tried and grabbed one of the
small bottles from the back.  Locking that cage up I moved to the one
with hydrochloric acid.  My hands fumbled with the keys because of
Maya squirting, her juice still covered my hand.   I kept stopping to
wipe it off.  I also tried five keys with no luck.  Footsteps started
towards the door, followed by Frank's voice.  "Did you get the folic
acid out of storage?"

I dashed to the door, standing behind where it would open.

"Yes, it's over here."

Footsteps walked away and I ran back to my task.  Three more keys with
no luck, only two left.

"I'm going up to Greg's office," Frank said, "I'll be back in twenty."

Maya would be in here as soon as he left.  I tried the second to last
with no luck, figures it was the last key I'd try.  I got the door
open just as I heard the click of Maya's heels towards the door.  It
swung open.

"Maggie?" Maya said.

I appeared from behind the door.  "He's gone?"

"Yes.  Come on."  Maya turned.

I grabbed my box, hoping she wouldn't notice my stuff was piled higher
thanks to the large bottle of hydrochloric acid underneath it all.

On the way home I made three stops.  One was a hardware store where I
grabbed the rest of what I needed: a paper painter's mask and several
pairs of thick rubber gloves, a hammer and chisel, a pair of goggles
and a bucket with a lid.  The gross part was no longer the killing; it
was going to be the cleanup.  The second stop was the park where Kaye
and I first said we loved each other.  We said it at the edge of the
lake that sits in the middle of the park, and I stood at the same spot
with the box that held the wedding rings.  Before Friday the thought
of those rings brought me joy, but now they're only a reminder that
our relationship will never be the same again.  I brought back my arm
to throw the box in the lake.

"Hey!  Stop!"

I turned.  It was a cop.

"Unless that's a rock, it better still be in your hand when you walk
out of the park!"

Fucker.  I had a mind to flip him off, but getting arrested wasn't a
good idea right now.  As I got back to the car, I realized I haven't
done anything right lately, even getting rid of a small, stupid box.
I'm a fuck up of the highest order.  I'll probably screw up tomorrow
too.  That thinking started to weaken my resolve about going through
with it, and I knew I couldn't go home like that.  So I ended up in a
bar called Bill's, a place I'd never been to before.

I sat at the bar and kept ordering drinks.  As each one came I held
the faint but desperate hope that it would numb me to the point where
my current situation didn't look so bad.  But at the bottom of each
glass was the reminder that my luck had run out.  There was no other
explanation.  Too many bad things happened at once, and only the total
absence of luck could be the cause.  For many years I'd considered
myself lucky - that I had enough brains to stay in school, that I had
enough sense to stay alive if it meant dumpster diving behind
restaurants for food in Utah or staying away from heroin when I felt
so down on myself in New York, that I'd managed to start my life over
again without telling everyone what it used to be.  It always felt
like I was just lucky enough to get what I needed.  And now I stood to
lose it all, because 'lucky' wasn't good enough anymore.

The bartender came up to me with my latest glass of hope.  She was in
her late forties or early fifties, with enough grays coming through
her red hair to signal it was time for a new dye job.  She placed the
drink in front of me and smiled.  "You've been putting 'em down
sweetheart.  Not that I mind since you tip well, I just don't want to
see you tip over."

"If I do, just sweep me under the rug."

She chuckled.  "Let me take a wild guess.  Man trouble?"

"Female trouble."

Her smile softened.  "Are we talking the female friend trouble, or..."

"Or, dot dot dot."

Her cackled laugh sounded like she'd smoked since she was born.
"Well, at least you still have a sense of humor.  That's important.
Keeps the noose from looking so good."

A customer signaled her from the other end of the bar.  "Be right
back."  When she walked away I was face to face with my reflection in
the mirror behind the bar.  It seemed like a long time before she came
back and said, "I don't know much about same sex relationships
sweetie.   Hell, I don't know much about men either.  Don't get me
wrong, they're simple creatures, I've known that since my first
boyfriend in high school, but then again I'm on my third husband, so
what does that tell you?"

"That we're all fucked."

"Whew, we're just a pair of optimists, aren't we?"

I managed a chuckle.

"So tell me about it," she said.

"You don't want to hear it.  It's too much and too weird."

"Honey, I've been behind a bar since I was seventeen.  Too much or too
weird is a challenge for you, not me."

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you."  And then I laid it all out
for her, everything that happened from age fifteen on.  It took a
little while, but luckily the bar was slow.  I left out the part where
I was planning on killing Amanda, admitting to a future felony seemed
like a bad idea at the time.  It was probably a bad idea any other
time as well.  I just told her that Amanda had left and Kaye was still
angry, which is what I figured tomorrow would be like.

When I finished the bartender sighed and said, "That's a bummer."

"Worst part of it is she has every right to be mad.  I mean if this
was some fight like I've had with other girlfriends, where we both
lose our tempers and both act badly, it's both our faults.  But I
screwed this up all by myself.  And she has all the right in the world
to hate me."

"For right now, yeah, sure," she said.  "But if she still hates you a
couple days from now, she's not as special as you think."

"How you figure that?"

"Look, I understand her getting mad about how you lied about your
past.  It's an instant, emotional reaction.  But if even half of what
you told me is for real, and by the way you didn't just meet the
challenge, you reset the bar, then when she calms down she'll
understand why you weren't crazy about telling the truth.  If she's
worth anything, that is."

When she put the check down I saw that it wasn't half of what I knew
it should be.  Before I could protest she said, "Bartenders
prerogative.  And before you get all 'don't want to be anyone's
charity' on me, the last bunch of drinks was mostly mixer.  Didn't
want you dying of alcohol poisoning before you had a chance to make up
with her."

I smiled.  "Thanks."

"Besides, you'd never fit under that rug."


20.
When I got home I left everything in the car except the potassium
cyanide, which was small enough to fit in my purse.  The rest I could
come out for tomorrow after Amanda was dead.

When I got upstairs Amanda was on the computer.  "Are you now
gainfully unemployed?" she asked.  I nodded.  She got up and walked
over.  "Good.  We fly out at twelve forty five tomorrow."

Then Amanda pulled me to her, wrapping her left arm tight across my
shoulder blades and her right arm above it, bent at the elbow so it
pushed my head towards hers.  She kissed me, and reluctantly I kissed
her back.  When it ended she looked me in the eyes, our foreheads
touching.  I tried to look away but she tilted her head left and then
right, chasing me with her gaze.  Finally I stopped running and looked
at her.

"It'll be just you and me," she said.  "Like it used to be."

My breathing was going so fast it felt like I'd just finished running
a marathon.  I could feel the air traveling to my lungs, where it
seemed to do nothing except keep me alive.  There was no taste in it
anymore, no joy.  My heart felt cold and hollow in my chest.  Part of
me said to cozy up to her, to make her feel comfortable.  The other
part of me knew that was the wrong move.  My eyes narrowed and in a
voice I barely recognized, I said, "The only reason I'm going with you
is because you threatened to kill her.  Don't forget that.  Not for
one second."

Amanda just stared back at me for a moment.  Suddenly she grabbed me
by my ears and forced me back until my head slammed into the wall.  I
cried out, more in shock than in pain.  Her gaze held steady into my
now wide and frightened eyes.  "You loved me once," Amanda said, "you
can learn to do it again."

She let go and walked away.  I stayed against the wall, fighting back
tears and fear.  Tomorrow, I thought.

When Kaye came home she remembered that she was supposed to meet Lucy
and some others for a drink.  I offered to join her, but Kaye said
she'd rather go alone.  Yeah, I've got nothing to worry about.  Before
Kaye left Amanda reminded her, "I still have the tape, and your
career, in my hands."  I wasn't looking to be left alone with Amanda,
so I told her I needed to practice on my violin, since I hadn't done
it since last Thursday.  I usually practice on the roof because it
annoys the neighbors when I do it in the apartment.  Just as I was
about to walk out she said, "Here," and tossed something on the floor
in front of me.  It was the folder with the story by Carol Hitchcock.
"In case you get tired of hearing yourself play."

I picked it up.  "So where did you get this?"

Amanda smiled.  "Given to me by the author herself a few years back.
Met her down in Rio.  I won't bore you with the details."

When I got to the roof the sun was just starting to set.  I tried
playing, but kept screwing up even the simplest notes.   Was tomorrow
going to work?  And if it did, what exactly was I going to say to Kaye
when she got home?  Would she believe Amanda just up and left?  Was
Kaye going to do the same?  I stopped playing and put down the violin,
unable to concentrate.  Instead I sat and opened up the binder.  If
Hitchcock is as good a writer as everyone says maybe her piece could
put my mind on other things.

"As Naked As A Tree" was a strange title.  It turned out to be an
autobiographical piece about when Hitchcock was a teenager and she
took walks in the woods behind the farm in Kentucky where she lived.
At first she did them because she liked being out in nature, but soon
it became more about spending time alone with her imagination, and it
also gave her time to think about problems she was having, like
telling her folks and her friends that she liked other girls.  I could
relate to that.  Then one night she was watching a movie and there was
a scene where a woman ran naked through the woods.  Just watching it
excited Carol.  So during her next walk in the woods, she stopped at
one point and took off all her clothes.  That changed everything for
her.  She looked at the trees around her and realized they were as
bare as she was.  She wrote:

"We were all naked in those woods, me and the trees.  I hugged one, my
naked body against the naked tree.  I marveled at how aged they were
and the fact that they survived being naked outside for so long, in
the cold and the heat, in the rain and the snow and the wind, and it
made me realize that life throws things at everyone.  You just have to
adapt, grow some thick bark and you can get through it."

After that, Carol only felt truly comfortable with herself when she
was walking through the woods naked.  It didn't just give her a sexual
charge, but one she felt down to the core of her being, like this was
the one moment she truly felt alive and not under anyone else's
thumb.  So I decided to take her advice.

I took off all my clothes.  Then I picked up my violin and started
playing a piece by Bach.  Standing there with the air and sun on my
body I felt so alive, so free.  I started swaying as I played, feeling
the music moving through me like it never had before.  And the sunset
matched my mood with a perfect golden sky.  When I finished the piece
there was silence, but I sensed someone behind me and turned.  It was
Mike, the guy from the apartment across the hall, and in his arms he
held what looked like a large computer printer.  I turned back to the
sunset.

He walked up and stood beside me.  "It's beautiful."

"I was just thinking the same thing.  What's with the printer?"

"It's a long story."

We stood silent for a little, enjoying the sunset.  The hues of the
sky made it look like a painting or a picture rather than real life.
But I knew no one could quite capture the scope of it or the colors,
I'd tried many times with my camera.  I stole a glance at Mike, the
printer still in his hands, his eyes fixated on the scene before
him.   If my nudity had any affect he didn't show it in the least.

Finally he said, "I'm going to drop this over the side.  You mind?"

"Just as long as you don't go chasing after it."

Half a smile cracked the side of his face.  "Would you help me make
sure no one is down there when I throw it?"

I nodded and Mike and I walked to the edge and I looked over.  It was
the side that faced the next building, so there was little reason for
anyone to be down there.  Mike brought the printer over his head.  It
was big and looked to be a high-grade job, and his skinny arms almost
lost control of it.  But then he steadied, and stood there waiting for
my signal.

"Clear," I said.

He heaved the printer over the side and we both watched as it sailed
towards the ground.  The bulky machine turned over in the air once and
then smashed onto the pavement, the casing splitting open easily with
the eight-story drop and sending the guts of the thing flying in every
direction.

"Cool," I said.

"Yeah," Mike said.  For the first time in weeks there was a full smile
on his face.

We looked back up at the sunset.  The gold color started to turn red
as the sun started down over the hill in the distance.

Finally I said, "Kaye's probably going to leave me."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Because she doesn't trust me anymore."  I sighed.  "We fell in love
so quickly, and she trusted me so easily, but then one stupid thing
happens and it's like I can't get her to trust me that quickly again."

Suddenly Mike laughed out loud.  It scared me, mostly because he'd
been so subdued when he was with his wife and so depressed after she
left.  Then he looked at me in the eye for a while.  "That's the funny
thing about trust," he said finally.  "It comes so easy.  Hell, most
of us do it without thinking.  We want to trust people.  We want to
have something that connects us, that way we're not so alone.  But
it's so fragile too, because when we're betrayed it scares us, reminds
us of how alone we really are.  When trust is lost, it's not half as
easy to get back as it was to gain it.  That's unfair and it sucks but
that's reality."

I snorted.  "You're very wise today."

"Experience is a bitch.  My wife cheated on me."

I pursed my lips and hesitated asking him the natural next question.
It didn't last long.  "Anyone you know?"

He shook his head.  "Did it with the guy who sold her that printer."
He rubbed his hands on his face.  "I threw her out, but she keeps
calling.  Says she wants us back together, keeps begging for another
chance."

"You going to forgive her?"

"Don't know yet."  Then he shrugged and said, "Who am I kidding?
Yeah, I am.  She says it was a huge mistake and I believe her.  Unless
you're an idiot you can usually tell about people.  She was under a
lot of pressure, from work, from her family, from me.  Said she walked
into the store and the salesman started hitting on her hard and she
just went with it without thinking.  Normally she's a very caring
person; it's one of the reasons I fell in love with her.  I don't
think she did it maliciously.  Why exactly are you naked?"

"It's a long..." I stopped and chuckled.  "Actually it's a short story.
Here, read it."  I handed him the binder.


21.
After the sunset I got dressed, went downstairs and sat on the front
steps.  There were many ways tomorrow could play out, and I wanted to
talk to Kaye alone before that happened.  I wasn't sure what exactly I
wanted to say, there was no way I was going to tell her about my plan,
but I felt the need to speak with her before it went down.  As the
time dragged on and I had nothing to do but think, I realized that in
some way I was saying goodbye to Kaye, just in case.  If tomorrow went
badly and I was forced to leave with Amanda, or she discovered my plan
and killed me, or if in her last moments she managed to overpower me
and...okay, that's enough thinking for right now.

Just after nine the car pulled down the street and I watched Kaye do a
horrible job parallel parking it.  My nerves were doing handstands as
she walked across the street, and my mind blanked on what to say to
her as she walked up to the building.  Kaye stopped and stared down at
me for a slow, agonizing minute.  Then she sat down next to me and
gave me a big hug.  It took me off guard, and I slowly put my hands
around her.

"I love you," she said.  "You know that, right?"

I felt a smile crawl across my face.  "It helps to be reminded now and
again."

We broke the hug and Kaye kept her face close to mine.  She exhaled
and that's when I smelled something.  "Have you been drinking?"

She gave me crooked grin.  "A little.  I, um, talked to Lucy."  Kaye
moved so she sat facing the street.

"You told her about-"

Kaye shook her head.  "No.  I was going to.  I wanted to tell her the
whole thing, get some outside advice.  But I realized laying this on
someone else..." Kaye sighed.  "So I just asked her what I really wanted
to know without telling her the details."

"What did you ask her?"

"That's not important."  Kaye looked at me.    Have I ever you about
Da'mon Warner?"

I thought for a second.  "No.  Is he one of your kids?"

"He was in the first class I ever taught."  Kaye leaned back against a
step.  "Da'mon didn't run with the gangs or deal drugs, and according
to school records he'd never caused any trouble.  I checked because he
was smart, really smart.  Got high marks on every homework assignment,
aced every test.  Funniest thing, you talked to him and he sounded as
lost as every other kid in the class, but when it came to schoolwork
he was the exception.  And I told him that one day."  Kaye smiled.
"After class.  I said that if he kept his grades up I thought he had a
real shot at going to college.  And he looked at me like I just told
him he could walk on the moon."  Kaye's face practically lit up with
the memory.  "I was happy for him, but I was happy for me too.  I went
into teaching to try and make a difference."

I arched an eyebrow.  "And to prove your parents wrong about
underprivileged kids."

"Yeah, well, a little of that too.  With Da'mon I felt like all my
dreams were going to come true, you know?  First month on the job and
I'm grooming a kid for college."  When Kaye's smile slowly faded I
knew this story didn't end well.  "Three days later Da'mon doesn't
show up for class.  At lunchtime the principal calls me to his office
and tells me Da'mon's in jail, for stealing a car."

She was silent for a while, so I asked, "Did you ever find out why he
did it?"

Kaye nodded.  "I went and visited him in jail."  Then she looked at
me, and in her eyes was this vulnerability that I've rarely ever seen
in her.  "You know what he fucking tells me?  He said, 'I had to steal
that car, Miss Foster.  You told me I could go to college, and that
takes serious coin.  So I figured I'd better start earning like
everyone else.'"

My jaw dropped.  I realized that wasn't vulnerability in her eyes.  It
was guilt.  She took a breath and said, "It was my first lesson in how
little I understood about where these kids come from.  In their world,
the only people who earn good money are the ones who deal drugs, boost
cars, run numbers," she paused, "sell their bodies.  Other than that,
you're just working a low wage job, living somewhere around the
poverty line."  Kaye snorted.  "Me?  I grew up knowing I had options.
I could go to college.  I could travel the world.  I could marry some
trust fund kid and hang out at the country club while a nanny raised
my children."

I smiled.  "If you were straight."

She managed to smile back.  "I'm in Hypothetical Land here, let me run
with it."

"You can't blame yourself for how that kid was raised."

"Doesn't mean I'm not responsible.  I disrespected Da'mon and every
one of those kids by assuming they grew up like me.  I didn't even
think to learn anything about the environment they live in, and cut
them some slack for it."

"That's funny, because from what I understand you're running just shy
of Genghis Khan when it comes to discipline."

"There's a difference between making them behave and refusing to
understand why they don't think like I do."  Kaye looked straight at
me.  "Every morning before work, I stand outside of that school and
remind myself that I've led a privileged life.  Not everybody had
parents like mine, who drilled right and wrong into their heads, even
a little too much."  She sighed.  "And not everybody grew up with all
the options I did.  It should make a difference in how I treat them,
because I can't help those kids unless I understand how they think.
And I'm not going to do that unless I remember not everyone has been
as lucky as me."

Kaye put her hand to the side of my face.  "I do that for my kids
every day, but I didn't do it for the woman I love the one time she
really needed it."

Her arms went around me and she pulled me into a tight hug.  It took
me a moment to hug her back because earlier I thought we were
practically finished.  But feeling her body against mine made me
realize that one of the reasons I love her is because she makes me
feel safe.

"Are you crying?" she said without breaking the hug.

"I think so," I croaked.  "Oh God, I don't know what I'd do without
you."

"You'd survive.  You did it long before you met me."

I broke the hug and looked at her, tears in my eyes.  "Yeah, but I had
no idea what I was missing."

Kaye wiped away my tears with her thumb.  A few minutes later we
decided to go back upstairs.  But when we got in the elevator Kaye hit
the button for the basement.

I said, "It's a little late for laundry."

Kaye just smiled.  When the door opened she walked out, and with a
frustrated sigh I followed her into the laundry room.  She turned on
the light and I could hear a machine going.  Someone had clothes in
the dryer, and Kaye looked at it and said, "Even better."

"What's even better?"

Kaye turned and stared at me.  Then she pulled her top off and threw
it aside, unhooked her bra and exposed her breasts.

I smiled, tore off my top and bra.  The last three days were like one
big argument, and this was the make-up sex.  It became a race to get
naked as Kaye got off her skirt and wedges and panties and I struggled
out of my boots and black jeans.  Going commando saved me some time,
but she still beat me.  So there we were, standing naked in the
laundry room.  Kaye was wearing a waist chain made of silver-

And suddenly she was all over me.  Her lips, her hands, even her leg
curled around mine.  Her tongue chased after mine with a fierce
determination, her hard nipples poked like blunt swords, and her pubic
hair rubbed against my naked mound sending little shocks through my
nerve endings.  We were two bare bodies enjoying the warmth of being
against each other, surrounded by a cool damp underground room that
smelled like fabric softener.

There was the taste of stale booze in Kaye's mouth, but I knew more
than alcohol fueled her right now.  It was the perfect combination of
love and lust, a sweet spot between romance and sex that we found with
each other.  Kaye pushed me back up against a wall as she groped my
breast with one hand and caressed my mound with the other.  I moaned
when she left my lips and kissed down my neck until she took a nipple
into her mouth.  Then she bit down lightly, followed by a soft sucking
while a finger slid between my lower lips, gliding back and forth on
my wet, sticky folds.  She ignored the other nipple and licked her way
down my stomach as she got on her knees before me.  Kaye put her face
between my legs and stuck her nose into the cleft of my mound,
breathing deeply and taking in the sweet and bitter smell.  I put my
fingers in place and exposed my sex to her.  The first lick was long
and slow, and I groaned an "Oh, Pookie."

With that Kaye went to work.  Her tongue flicked and swirled, teased
and taunted, glided over and then dug in.  At one point she reached up
with her right hand and got to the breast she didn't lick, caressing
the globe at first and then pinching the nipple. I pressed my back
against the wall while emitting sounds that encouraged her.  Kaye slid
a finger inside of me and started pumping it in and out, soon adding a
second one that got me standing on my toes.  And then for a brief
second my mind flashed back to earlier today, remembering this was the
exact position I had Maya in.  I pushed the thought out of my head,
put my hands on Kaye's and reminded myself right now was not about
Amanda or tomorrow.  I let myself float on my feelings for my
girlfriend.

Kaye hooked her teeth in my clit ring and pulled as her fingers did an
upstroke inside of me.   I let out a cry of pleasure and she did it
twice more before sucking my love button between her lips and
triggering my orgasm.  I almost toppled over her as I shook and
screamed, but Kaye caught me with her one free hand.  When her lips
and fingers were out of my crotch area I slumped against the wall and
slid down until I was seated in front of her.  Kaye was smiling at me
and I put a hand against the side of her face.

"That was incredible." I said between gasps.

Kaye pulled me to her and we hugged.  "Nothing like a little stress to
add to your sex life."

We sat there for nearly a minute hugging, until I pulled back and
engaged Kaye in a kiss.  It started out as a slow and sensitive lip
lock, but quickly developed into a hungry, passionate smooch that led
us to more sex.  This time I took the initiative, getting on my knees
while still kissing and pushing Kaye onto the ground.  I broke the
kiss and Kaye looked up at me lovingly.  Suddenly I slapped her hard
across the face.

"Ow!" she yelled, rubbing the side of her face.  "What the hell for?"

I froze, dumbfounded.  "I, uh, thought...you know, the whole forced to
do things during sex thing?"

With an annoyed look, she said, "Well getting beat up isn't one of
them."

"Oh.  Shit.  Sorry.  If you could like, make a list, that would help."

When Kaye reached out and grabbed my head between her hands, I thought
she was angry.  Instead she smiled.  "Thanks for trying."  She pulled
me closer and we kissed, and I moved so I could kiss the side of her
face I hit.  "That make it better?" I asked.

"Yes it did."  Kaye smiled.  "But I'm hurting elsewhere."

I laughed.  "Tell Mommy where else it hurts."

Kaye ran her hands up and down her body.  "Just kind of all over."

I leaned down and kissed her on her throat.  "There?" I asked.  With
her eyes closed Kaye nodded, so I started licking and then sucking on
her neck.  When I did it a little too hard she cried, "Hey, it doesn't
hurt that much there!"  Kaye is always worried about getting hickeys
where they can be seen.  She didn't want her students picking on her.

I lay on top of her, straddling her left leg, and asked, "How about
here?"  My left leg came to rest on her pussy and I could feel the
wetness on my skin.  Pressing my body against hers, our lips came
together and showered each other in affection.  I started grinding my
leg into her sex, the feeling of my skin against her most erogenous
zone driving me like fuel.  She began to rise and meet my thrusts,
causing our breasts to meet as well and our nipples began to harden at
the sensations.  Then Kaye brought her leg up so it would rub against
my pussy.  It didn't make perfect contact, but complaining wasn't
something for this moment.  Our faces separated and stared at each
other as we humped one another, our mouths agape and emitting
strangled sounds, totally oblivious to anything but ourselves.

When Kaye said, "I want your mouth down there," I kissed her briefly,
then pulled away and turned myself around so my face was at her
pussy.  I also straddled my legs over her head so we were in a sixty-
nine.  Grinding each other got us good and started; we were both wet
and ready when the licking began.  I slit my fingers into her easily,
and Kaye's tongue met with no resistance as it dipped into my slit.
My tongue circled, flicked, and sucked on her hood, and Kaye matched
my movements to try and make us come together.  Except that while I
was fingering her slit, she moisturized her digits on my juice and ran
them up my ass crack, centering on my rosebud.  Slowly circling the
crinkled brown hole, Kaye kept playing with it until it her finger
slid inside.  I cooed at the feeling, that widening of my back door.
She only moved in to the first knuckle, and then gently fucked me.  By
now we were licking and sucking on each other's clits, and when Kaye
sucked hard on mine it sent me over the edge.

"Ohhhhhh!  My God!" I cried.

I took a few deep breaths and then continued to feast on Kaye.  She
kept working her finger in my ass, adding to my post orgasmic
pleasure.  Within minutes she joined me in that pleasure, and after we
removed our fingers from each other I rolled off of her.  We lay on
the floor for a while, breathing heavily and rubbing each other's
legs.  Kaye's hand strayed down and she tickled the bottom of my foot,
I yelped and did the same back to her.  We laughed and helped each
other stand up.

"What the hell!"

It was the old man from upstairs.  He stood there with an empty
laundry basket.  We'd been so preoccupied with sex that we didn't
notice the dryer had finished, probably a while ago.  It was the
second time that day I'd been caught naked, once on top of the
building and this time underneath it.  Kaye and I laughed as we
hurriedly grabbed our clothes and ran out of there.

We got dressed on the elevator ride upstairs.  "I was thinking," Kaye
said.  "After this is over, when Amanda is gone, we should move to a
new place."

I felt a lump building up in my throat.  Somehow I managed to swallow
it and say, "Another apartment?"

"Or another city.  Do something exciting like that."

"Are you really in the need for any more excitement after this
weekend?"

Kaye smiled.  "I just thought we could start fresh.  You and me.
After all this, starting over would be a good thing."

I nodded, knowing that after tomorrow I might not be there for her.
With no feeling in my words I said, "Yeah.  That'd be good."  I looked
up at her and forced a smile.  Kaye smiled back and hugged me.  The
skilled liar does it again.  I suck.


22.
The next morning I got ready like I was going to work, as normal.
Kaye usually leaves before I do, and when she came over to give me a
kiss I gave her a long, passionate one.  Our tongues intertwined and
our arms encircled and I held her as tight as I could without hurting
her.  We broke the kiss but stayed in the hug.

"Wow," she said.  "What was that for?"

I swallowed and tried not to sound nervous.  "For last night.  For
being you."  I reached up and pushed some hair out of her face.  "For
being wonderful."

Kaye smiled, and at that moment I realized that despite all I'd been
through so far in life, all the hardship and all the loss and all the
pain, nothing would ever hurt me more than losing her.  It felt like
the greatest and saddest moment of my whole life.

"I've got to go," Kaye said.  She kissed me again, opened the door,
and made quick eye contact with me before she closed it.

I continued to stare at the closed door as Amanda walked up behind
me.  "We've got to get ready," she said, and I followed her to the
bedroom where she told me to pack a few things in a small bag.  She
would buy me new clothes, better clothes (i.e. clothes she liked) when
we got to where we were going.  I picked a few items, not taking it
seriously since I knew we wouldn't get very far.  Amanda sat on the
bed and watched me, probably to make sure I didn't leave any notes for
Kaye.  As I finished up I saw Mr. Pookie still on the bed.  I grabbed
him and stuffed him in the bag.  Amanda might have gotten suspicious
if I left him behind.

"I'm finished," I said solemnly, trying to act like I would if we were
about to leave.  Meanwhile I was trying not to show my fear about what
was really going to happen.  "I've got to eat something before we go.
I don't fly well unless I eat."

"Take your time.  We're not leaving for a while."

That surprised me.  "Why not?"

"Less time at the airport.  Plastic surgery and fake documents aside,
I don't like taking chances."

So I went to the kitchen and made myself a bowl of cereal.  I also
fixed a glass of orange juice, took the bottle of potassium cyanide
out of my pocket and poured some in.  This was my plan.  Every morning
Amanda had a glass of orange juice.  Putting it in there would hide
the almond smell.  After she was dead I'd strip her naked and drop her
into the tub, and then go downstairs and get the supplies out of the
car.  The gloves, goggles and painters mask would help protect me when
I poured the hydrochloric acid on her body, dissolving all her soft
tissue and sending it down the drain.  Then I'd use the hammer and
chisel to break apart the bones, put them in the bucket and cover them
with the lid.  Gather up her clothes and stuff and take them to the
drop off box for the homeless shelter down the street.  Go bury the
bucket in the empty lot behind an abandoned building two towns away.
Come home and throw up.

I brought the glass out to Amanda and set it in front of her, then sat
in the other chair and continued to eat my cereal.  She was working on
her computer, and she didn't look at the glass.  I didn't want to be
obvious and point it out, so I just kept eating.  Amanda shut down her
computer and packed it away with the rest of her stuff.  Then she got
up and took the Rembrandt print off the wall.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"My father gave this to me," she said.  "I gave it to you because I
thought you were like him, and me."  She took the print out of the
frame and rolled it up, then put it next to her bag.  "But I was
wrong."

"Huh," I said.  "I think that's the greatest compliment you've ever
given me."  I finished my cereal and got up.  "Aren't you going to
drink your juice?" I asked.

"No.  It's all yours."

I felt a pain in the bottom of my stomach.  "Don't you drink one of
these a day?"

"Not when I fly.  Maybe you need to eat, but I can't have anything in
my stomach when I get on a plane."

And just like that my plan went to shit.

"Okay," I said, picked up the glass and headed to the kitchen.  Just
as I turned the corner I started bringing the glass to my lips like I
was going to drink it, in case she got suspicious.  As soon as I was
out of sight I lowered the glass and poured it down the sink, then ran
the water and washed out the glass in case I wasn't here when Kaye got
home.  Which was looking very likely.

Now what?  There was no way I could leave with her.  For a brief
moment I considered waiting until we got to wherever we were going,
but that involved being around unfamiliar territory and people.  Then
I realized that Amanda might have people she knows at our final
destination, people who will meet us at the airport, who are living
where we're living.  Would I have to kill them too?

No.  Now was the time and here was the place.  My mind started racing
as my eyes looked around the kitchen for a weapon.  It didn't take
long for them to settle on the knife set.  Back to my original plan.
I took a big one out and reached behind me, slid the handle into the
waistband of my jeans so the blade was flat against the small of my
back, covered it with my T-shirt and reminded myself to be careful
about how I moved.  Just as I started walking out of the kitchen,
Amanda turned the corner and I froze in place.

"It's time," she said.

I nodded, and she dropped her bag by the door before walking me into
the bedroom to grab my bag.  Then she turned and I followed her out
towards the foyer.  My hand reached behind me.  Amanda took her jacket
off the coat rack, her back still to me.  I slid out the knife.
Amanda was putting on her jacket and I came up behind her.  But I
hesitated, and she turned towards me.  I hid the knife behind my leg.

"Shit, the print."  She walked towards the living room to get the
Rembrandt print.  I put down my bag and followed her.  When she leaned
down to pick it up, I was right behind her.

It was now or never.  I raised the knife, but then fear gripped me,
and I hesitated again.  Amanda stood and turned.  She saw the knife.
I lunged, swinging the knife down towards her chest.  It stopped
inches from the target.  Amanda's hand had a vice grip on my wrist,
and I cried out as she twisted it.  The knife clattered to the floor
and she spun both of us around, sending me flying into the foyer.  As
soon as I hit the floor I struggled to get up, but Amanda was right
there and she shoved me hard against the wall.  She gave a karate chop
to my side and then landed a punch to my lower back.  I slid to the
floor.

Amanda walked away and I struggled to turn over.  I had thought of her
strength and reflexes as very animal-like, and now I knew her rage was
that of a serial killer.  By the time I rolled over she was coming
back towards me, and in her hand was the knife.

"This is the Maggie I used to know," she said with a smile on her
face.  "The one with the fire.  Too bad you decided to use it like
this."

Amanda kneeled and grabbed my shirt, pulling me towards her and
pushing the tip of the knife against my throat.  "You were so close
Mags," she said.  "So close to living a very comfortable life.  Now
you've shown me that you can't be trusted.  And I can't risk that."  I
winced as I felt a pain and then a trickle of blood running down my
neck.   "Any last words?" she asked.

I spit in her face.  She smiled.  "I'll take that as a no.  Well I've
got some last words to you.  Better luck in the afterlife."

Amanda was about to strike when suddenly the front door opened and
Kaye stepped in.  She wasn't supposed to be off work for hours, but
since she interrupted my murder I wasn't going to complain.  Kaye
looked at us, me lying on the floor beaten and Amanda holding a knife
to my throat, and without missing a beat she said, "Am I interrupting
something important?"

The knife came away from my throat.  Amanda stood and smiled.  "Just
irony in action.  I wanted Maggie back, and I was threatening to kill
you to do it.  Then, she goes and tries to off me with this."  Amanda
held up the knife.  "That must make you feel real special."

Kaye smiled back.  "Actually, it does.  So do me a favor while I'm
enjoying this moment.  Get your shit and get the fuck out of my
place."

Amanda laughed.  "Fine.  But say goodbye to your job bitch.

Kaye smiled.  "I already did."

Two jaws dropped.  "You quit?" I heard myself say.

"Yep," Kaye said.  She turned to Amanda.  "So you can leave now.  And
I'd be quick about it."

Amanda turned the knife towards Kaye.  "Why's that?"

Kaye looked at her watch.  "Because right about now Maggie's friend
Lisa is calling the cops.  They'll be here soon."

For the first time since she got here, Amanda looked stunned.  Then
she ran into the living room.  Kaye put down her bag and then came
over to help me stand up.  "We'll talk about this later."

Amanda came back with the print and said, "I need one more thing
before I go."

I said, "If it's a kiss, you can kiss my ass."

Amanda took a gun out of her jacket and pointed it towards us.
Suddenly I knew what was in her lockbox.

"Okay," I said, "I take it back."

Amanda smiled, and said, "I want Mr. Pookie."

I felt my breath catch in my throat.  "What for?"

"That's my business."

I opened the bag and took out my doll.  Tears were welling up in my
eyes.  "Why do you have to take him?"

"Just give him to me."

Sense completely left me at that point, and I said, "No!"

"Give him to me or I'll shoot you!"

Kaye turned to me.  "Just give it to her."

"I can't!" I yelled to Kaye, and then I turned to Amanda.  "Why are
you being so cruel?"

"Well first off, because I can, and second, because there's two
million dollars in there."

Startled, I looked at Mr. Pookie, then at Amanda.  "The money?"

Amanda shot a hole in the wall just above Kaye's head, making both of
us jump away.  She leveled the gun at Kaye.  "Give me the fucking doll
or she dies!"

With that I gained my sense back, along with quite a bit of shock, and
I held out Mr. Pookie.  Amanda snatched him from me, stepped back and
put Mr. Pookie in her bag.

"What's in there?" Kaye asked.  "Diamonds?  Gold?"

"Neither."

"Well you took a hell of a chance leaving it here."

Amanda zipped up her bag and stood up.  "I realized if they caught me
with the money I'd lose it.  The best bet was to turn it into
something else and leave it behind.  That way I could come back for
it, or if they caught me it would fund my legal defense.  I'd have a
better team than O.J."

"And then you waited four years?" Kaye asked.

"I waited two years for the police interest to die down.  Then I had a
problem and got held up where I was living.  When that was over I had
trouble finding Maggie.  Never thought she'd move to fucking New
Jersey."

She aimed the gun at us and cocked it.  Both Kaye and I tensed.
Amanda said, "I have half a mind to kill you both right now."

Kaye grabbed my wrist.  Then her hand moved down and her fingers
intertwined with mine.

Suddenly Amanda un-cocked the gun and lowered it.  "But there's
something more fun in leaving you two alive to suffer together, or
apart if you so choose.  Knowing you were so close to this money and
now you're left with nothing but each other."

With that, Amanda went out the door.

We both stood there, frozen, half worried she'd come back.  Our hands
were still interlocked.  Finally I turned and said, "Kaye, I..."

"Quiet!"  Kaye looked like she was counting to herself.

"What -"

She held up her hand.  Then she nodded.  "Okay."  She ran out the
front door and I followed her.  At the end of the hall she went to the
window.  I looked out with her and we watched Amanda crossing the
street three stories down.  On the other side she stopped and looked
back at the building.

Under her breath, Kaye said,  "Come on, come on, come on..."

I wanted to ask, but didn't want her to yell at me again.  A few
seconds went by, and suddenly Amanda looked down the street.  Then she
ran up the block and turned the corner.  Two police cars with lights
flashing pulled in front of the building.  A big black cop stepped out
of the first car and walked up our steps.

"You really had Lisa call the cops?"

"No."  Kaye ran back to the apartment and I followed her.  The buzzer
sounded and Kaye hit the button, opening the downstairs door for the
cop.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Kaye turned and slapped me hard on the face.

"What the-" I started, but Kaye stuck her finger in my face.

"Don't you ever, ever, ever plan a murder without me again, do you
understand?  We are soul mates, and that means we do everything
together, got it?"

I nodded.

"Good.  Now get your stuff together, we've got to get packing."

Kaye ran into the bedroom and pulled a suitcase out of the closet.  I
walked towards the bedroom, rubbing the side of my face.  "Kaye, what
the-" Then there was a knock at the door.  Kaye ran past me and opened
it.

"Thanks for coming, Alex." she said to the cop.

"No problem.  How long you going to need us?"

Kaye winced.  "Three, maybe four hours.  That too much?"

Alex the Cop smiled.  "For you?  We'll be out there as long as you
need."  Alex the Cop turned and left.

Kaye headed back into the bedroom and I followed her.  I said, "Okay,
at least tell me how you know Alex the Cop?"

"Father of one of my students.  His daughter stole some things and I
called him instead of the authorities.  With her record she'd have
been facing serious time, and afterwards he told me that if I ever
needed anything to call him.  Why aren't you packing?"

"Why am I packing?"

Kaye was throwing things into her suitcase haphazardly.  "Because
we're moving to Chicago.  You always said you liked Chicago, right?
I've never been, but I trust your judgment.  So we're moving there."

I shook my head.  "How are we moving there?  We can't fit everything
in our car."

"Fuck!  Thank you, I almost forgot."  She pulled out her cell phone
and started dialing.  She waited and then said, "Yes, we're ready.
Thanks." She hung up and looked at me.  "I have a moving truck waiting
three blocks away.  There are four movers and they're going to have us
out of here in a couple of hours, so get as much stuff as you can
together."

I shrugged and rolled my eyes and dropped my butt on the bed.  "Jesus
Kaye, can I remind you we're both jobless now?  And you want us to
move somewhere where we don't know anyone!  This is going to cost a
lot of money!  It's money we don't have!"

She stopped what she was doing and went to her workbag, pulled out
something and tossed it at me.  I caught it.  It was Mr. Pookie.

Kaye smiled and said, "We've got two million dollars babe.  Now start
packing."


23.
Amanda had stopped crying an hour ago.  Sitting in a crappy motel room
in Sweden, she had finally done what she should have done in the first
place.  What she really should have done in the first damn place.  But
from the moment those police cars showed up in front of Maggie and
Kaye's apartment she knew she was on a clock, and probably had an hour
or less to get out of the country before the cops and the Feds had the
airports locked down.  Besides, she'd checked it twice over the
weekend, still leaving it inside Mr. Pookie in case she figured wrong
about Maggie and Kaye and they called the cops.

At the airport Amanda brought her bag on the plane as a carry-on.  No
way she was checking it and risking the news that they lost her bag
when she landed.  She went through the X-ray machine without a
problem, since she'd dumped the gun before getting to the airport.  On
the plane she put the bag in the compartment above her head and
relaxed in the thought that she finally had her power.  It was with
her, and safe.  Inside Mr. Pookie.

They were three quarters through the flight and the only thing
bothering Amanda was the incessant chatter of the woman behind her,
complaining over and over about airport security measures and how
strict they are now.  How they make you take off your shoes and how
unsanitary that is.  How they make you take off your belt and risk
your pants falling down in front of everyone.  And how the X-ray
machine always makes the dumbest things look suspicious.  Suddenly
Amanda's jaw dropped, her face went slack and she felt the worst
feeling in the pit of her stomach.  They hadn't stopped her at the
airport.  They X-rayed her bag and hadn't stopped her.  Meaning they
didn't see anything suspicious inside Mr. Pookie.  Meaning it wasn't
there.

She wanted to grab her bag and go to the bathroom and check.  Maybe
the security agents on duty didn't see it as suspicious.  Maybe their
attention was taken away right as Mr. Pookie passed through.  But then
the stewardess announced they were about to land.  Amanda stayed in
her seat.  She didn't really want to check.  It was too horrible a
thought.

By the time she landed she convinced herself that there was no way
those girls were smart enough to fool her, and to prove that to
herself she didn't check it at the airport.  Amanda took a cab to the
cheapest motel the driver knew, got into the room, and took it out.
And that sent her into a rage.

Amanda threw things and cried and threw things again.  She sat on the
bed and bawled like a baby, wrapped herself in the thin comforter and
wished she was a little girl again, at home in the suburbs with her
parents, playing with her friends at a time and place where the world
was safe and fun and not this big nasty thing.  After an hour she sat
up and thought, pushing herself to face where she had gone wrong, the
Stupid Move.  She had planned to stay with them one night.  The next
evening she would propose a toast to her leaving, drug their drinks
and leave before they woke up the next day.

But then she felt it.  The power.  Being with Maggie again gave her
that feeling of power and she was hooked on it.  Even better was when
Maggie told Kaye the truth and Amanda had to think on her feet, using
the blackmail to control the two of them.  Then she was manipulating
two people, giving her an abundance of power, and overriding her sense
of better judgment.  Amanda chose to stay, even though she knew it was
a danger to her freedom, so she could bask in her favorite feeling.
That was where she made her mistake.  That was her Stupid
Move.  No, that was one of the two.  The other one was Kaye.  Maggie
didn't want to give up Mr. Pookie, but Kaye ordered her girlfriend to
give it up.  It wasn't just what she said, but the way she said it.
Impatient, like she wanted Amanda to take it, to get her out of
there.

Kaye.  Amanda was so obsessed with getting Maggie, and only saw Kaye
as an obstacle.  Not as a threat.  Pay attention to all the pieces on
the board.

Now she just had resolve, a certainty she had never felt before.  To
do something the Romans considered a choice of honor.  She'd used a
shoe to smash the mirror in the bathroom, and sitting in the tub with
the warm water up to her neck, Amanda watched the color change from
clear to red.  She brought up her hand so her fingers and the glass
shard broke the surface of the water without her wrist coming up and
spurting blood all over.

Reflected in the glass, Amanda looked at her face one last time.  She
thought there would be tears, but she couldn't feel sorry for
herself.  No, that would be weak.  There was pride in that face,
because this was her choice, her decision, and that meant she had
power.  Power meant she wasn't weak.  For one last time, Amanda had
the power.  Daddy would've been proud.


24.
Within four hours we were gone.

The movers were short stocky guys who only spoke Spanish, but they
were the fastest, toughest, hardest working people I've ever seen.
Kaye and I felt like we were moving in slow motion next to them.  In
four hours they helped us pack and tape and load the truck.  Informing
the building super we were leaving was fun.  He said something about
breaking the lease by not giving notice and that he was going to have
to keep the security deposit.  We laughed in his face.

"After I quit I tried calling you at work," Kaye explained while we
were still packing.  "I was going to tell you to leave work and meet
me outside the building.  Then I was going to explain the plan so we
could go upstairs and send Amanda running."  Kaye stopped what she was
doing and looked up at me.  "When they told me you'd quit yesterday, I...
honestly, I went out of my fucking mind.  I had no idea what was going
on and the whole drive home I was scared that I'd get there and both
of you would be gone."  Kaye started choking up and her voice cracked.
"Or that I'd find you..."

She started crying.  I went over and hugged her.  "I wish you'd have
told me this plan last night."

"I just came up with it last night," Kaye said between sniffles.  "I
wasn't sure it could come together until I talked to Alex this
morning, and the moving company...I didn't want you to get your hopes
up.  And just why didn't you tell me about your plan, missy?"

Because I didn't want to involve you in a murder, I thought.  Because
I didn't want you to talk me out of it.  Because I didn't trust your
better judgment.  "Because I'm an idiot," I said.

Once the truck was loaded and gone we just had a few things left to
put in our car.  As we drove out Route 80 towards Pennsylvania, I held
Mr. Pookie in my hands.  The real Mr. Pookie.

"How?" I asked.

Kaye smiled.  "Planning.  You're so attached to this little guy, and a
few months ago I got worried that if one day he was lost or stolen
you'd go to pieces.  So I went on the Internet and found the company
that sold him.  They'd changed the design a little bit, but I was able
to alter it enough and then wash and age the shit out of him to make a
duplicate."

I smiled.  "So you were going to trick me for my own good, if you
needed to."

Kaye sighed.   "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it.  Sometimes lying isn't all
bad if it's done for the right purpose.  Moral of the story, blow it
out your ass."

I laughed.  In my other hand was the plastic container we dug out of
Mr. Pookie.  There were four small coins inside, none of which looked
like they were worth a chunk of two million dollars.  I held it up.
"And when exactly did you figure out about this?"

Kaye smiled.  "I figured out Mr. Pookie last night, but I'd been
suspicious since Sunday.  I kept wondering, just why did she come
back?  If it wasn't for you, it had to be for something awfully
important to risk getting caught.  The only thing I could figure was
the money.  So I started thinking a bank account, or maybe it was
buried somewhere.  But then why stay with us?  That had to be the
biggest risk of all."

I nodded.  "Unless it was with us.  With me."

"At first I thought of the Rembrandt print.  I pulled off the back,
but it looked like cheap paper.  Then it hit me.  There was no way
Amanda could count on you to keep something she gave you, especially
after how it all ended.  And that's when something Amanda said came
back to me, something that hit me wrong when she said it.  When she
saw Mr. Pookie she said, "I can't believe you still have him."  I've
only been with you a fraction of the time she was, and I damned well
know that when you die you'll want Mr. Pookie buried with you.  Of
course she believed you'd still have him.  She counted on it."

I smiled.  Kaye looked at me.  "What?" she asked.

"You read way too many private detective novels."

Kaye laughed.

I said, "While you've got your Sherlock cap on, there's something I
really don't get.  Amanda was only there for the money, and it was
right there in her reach the whole time.  The longer she stayed, the
riskier it was for her.  So why'd she stay so long?"

Kaye looked at me, and her face had that soft, serene look it got when
she was about to tell me she loved me.  She reached over and stroked
the side of my face with her finger.  "She stayed," Kaye said, "for
the same reason I did."

I looked into her eyes and knew that I'd succeeded.  I'd gotten back
what I'd lost when I was fifteen.  Hell, I had more than that.
"There's a...something else," I said.  "One last secret I've been
keeping from you that I think you should know about."

Kaye looked skeptical, and a little worried.  "Is this going to make
me mad?"

Reaching down into my bag, I pulled out the small box with the rings.
"I really hope not."

The End.

Send feedback to roguewriter@hotmail.com

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