Chapter 228: Cheli VIII—Poison
The house was huge, it was filled with people, it was drunk with this party. Chris had a few beers and some whisky in his blood; he had forgotten whose house this was. He really didn’t care.The wives and girlfriends were clustered in a corner of the huge room, laughing, drinks swishing in their hands. The older women, the veteran’s wives were standing, seemed clear headed and sipped at their drinks. The younger women gulped down their drinks way too fast, sat splay legged on the couches and tilted their heads back when they laughed loudly, exposing their throats.
Chris leaned against the wall, there was Tracee, and she had a sleepy grin on her face. She always became more passive and quiet when she was drunk. It was one of the things he liked about her. It would be nice getting her home tonight; it warmed him inside thinking of her delicate body, her soft moans.
Tracee didn’t notice him and that’s when he felt the sharp stab of another gaze. He felt his skin prickle when he looked at Michele. Her eyebrows were lifted, her blue orbs on him and they seemed larger than usual. There was placid, porcelain, regal tilt to her features and she had no alcohol in her hand. She was gazing, he could tell that, she was observing and when he met her eyes, she didn’t seem perturbed.
He trembled inwardly remembering the cut of her teeth and he ran a finger over the pink scar on his throat. Just the itch of it inflamed him, he tasted her again, felt the anger. Arrogant whore that she was….
He frowned and she stood up. She was wearing a loose, light colored, bohemian style blouse, the kind that all the women seemed to wear nowadays. It never seemed to work on other women, but as the shoulder of it slipped down, exposing her smooth skin, Chelios felt his mouth water. She looked at him again, pointedly, before she turned her chin up and left the room, going down a darkened hallway. He read that message perfectly and Chris glanced around the room, looking for Patrick. The boy was inebriated and laughing loudly with Guy and Larry.
Chelios didn’t glance back as he crossed the room, went down that darkened hallway to find her. His hands wouldn’t stop quivering and that angered him. Not even Tracee caused him to tremble and she was prettier than this slut. What was it that compelled them that destroyed them?
There was one door open, Chelios entered the room. She was standing in front of the window, her bony arms crossed underneath her breasts. She was wearing one of those long, ankle length skirts, the one he remembered on her. Why had she kept it? Women didn’t keep things like that? She wasn’t a woman… she was something worse.
“You were the one watching me,” Chris said in French, “What do you want honey?”
“Come here,” she said.
Chris glanced behind him, over his shoulder. He half expected something, a trick, a repeat of Mario’s tears and blubbering. He looked back at her, dimly lit by a flickering lamp, a large bed in the middle of the room. Whose house was this?
He walked slowly, met her gaze, refused to be stared down or intimidated. She slid her arms behind her back, leaned on her hands. It lifted her small breasts, gave them a definition under the almost transparent blouse that Chris couldn’t resist. He lost all reserve and he pressed his hands into the side of her skinny neck, was tempted to just squeeze it. She closed her eyes and he heard her breathe in almost violently and he slid his hands down her body and pressed them into her small breasts, remembered the feel of them.
He wouldn’t kiss her though; she didn’t deserve that from him. Instead he leaned over her, let his lips linger over her throat, let her feel his breath. She wouldn’t get his kiss… and then he inhaled and that fragrance. It was just perfume, stupid oils, human sweat, but the combination on her was different than on other women. It seemed to mix to a potent swirl that inside the brain commanded attention and lust. He couldn’t resist and he kissed her, she made a squeak as her lips opened for him but her hands did not come from behind her back. He ran his fingers on her bare arms but she would not move them.
“Touch me,” he growled, pressing his hand over the front of her throat and staring her down.
“Fuck you,” she snipped.
He laughed quietly and he could feel the blood rushing through his thighs, tightening him as he grabbed the top of her skirt and began pulling it up. She tightened, he could feel her body and he pressed against her, pinning her. If she had changed her mind he wasn’t going to allow her that option. He felt impatient and dizzy with the present, remembering the past. He had only a taste then, but it was enough, it was poison.
She gasped when he finally touched her bare skin with his fingers, slid his hand between her thighs and with the other he began to fumble with his fly and then he stopped.
Please Chris, please! You’re a good man, Patrick likes you so much, please don’t do this!
Say it in English kitty cat!
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You do it,” he whispered.
“What?” she replied.
He caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth. “I want to feel your little hands on me, come on you unzip me.”
Within the instant he felt her palm press onto his crotch and he moaned and kissed her again on the throat and then on the top of her exposed shoulder and then… The pain was sharp and concentrated on the bottom of his jaw line. He froze, felt his blood ice and he closed his eyes momentarily. Slowly, he lifted his head but the knifepoint remained, threatening to slit at any moment.
“Mimi?” he asked.
He saw her small, pale fist, the handle of the knife in it. She had been hiding that behind her back then. God he was such an idiot.
“Hello Chris. Nice to see you,” she whispered.
He saw her eyes, blank and glassy. “Why?” he asked. “You wouldn’t get away with it.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I just want you to die.”
“For what? We have to move on, you know that,” he said slowly, not quite prepared to die.
“Move on?” Michele said, almost as if the words were coming to her from a great distance. “No Chris, you don’t deserve to. You drowned her! You’re a murderer.”
Chris felt the cold water over his arms, the gurgles, the claws in his arms the teeth on his throat. His blood billowing in the bucket. She’s insane! He thought, she’s gone mad!
Chris ran his tongue over his lips. “You’d kill me for something that’s your fault? I warned you I fucking warned you over and over. And when people get hurt because of you, it’s only yourself you have to blame, why can’t you see that?”
Michele scowled and he saw the jerk of her wrist before he felt the slicing burn of the knife. He gasped and closed his hand over her child like wrist; he squeezed it, held it from stabbing further. Her hand opened wide and the knife fell out of it and clattered on the wooden floor. They stood there, silent. Chris could feel the blood sliding from the wound on his throat and by the sting of it; he could feel that it probably was not deep at all.
Michele’s eyes half closed and then she opened them. With her free hand she pressed her fingers over his throat and peered at the blood on her fingers, his blood. She rubbed her fingers together and he saw his dark crimson blood smear and thin on her skin.
She’s mad. She needs to be locked away.
He let go of her wrist and took a step back from her, kicking the knife away from them as he did so. It slid loudly over the floor, clattered into the wall. He pointed at her, “You’re insane,” he said in English. “You fucking need to be locked up before you really do something.”
Michele smiled a narrowed eyed, distasteful smile. She didn’t answer him though; she made no indication that she understood him. Instead she pressed her bloodied fingers against her lips. Chelios turned away rather than see anymore, he walked quickly, tried not to run as he left the room. He remembered her face, twisted in pain, the trickle of blood spilling from the corner of her mouth, his blood. Not much had changed.
“It wasn’t cat was it?” Tracee’s voice was slurred and sleepy as he drove later on that night.
“What?” Chris said, glancing briefly at her, he scratched at the band aid on his throat with one hand.
“Cat…” Tracee said and then she cleared her throat, “It wasn’t a cat this time was it?”
“Tracee,” Chris said, “I don’t have time.”
Tracee laughed and she sunk deeper into her seat, yawned and then burped. “It wasn’t a cat the first time either. Not a real cat you know, not the kind with fur,” she laughed, “But she does have claws. And you still go after her like a stallion ready to hump.”
Chris felt his mouth twist with hate and irritation. He hated Michele, detested her. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not stupid,” Tracee said, “But God help me I love you and Chris, she doesn’t either. So why not just settle for me? I don’t like being second place at all but I’ll take it.”
“You’re not second place Trace,” Chris said. He didn’t know what else to say. He knew he would have to propose soon, was not disturbed by that, and was looking forward to it.
“Show me when we get home huh?” she said. “If I’m still conscious…”
“I should have killed her when I had the chance, Larry,” Chris said in a low voice to Robinson as they sat in the back corner of a half empty bar. He swallowed down a shot of whisky. “She’s gone fucking crazy.”
Chris saw the gleam of Larry’s smile from underneath his mustache. “Why do you say that?” he asked. He belched loudly.
Chris shook his head. “The bitch tried to slit my throat last night, that’s why.”
Larry laughed and leaned forward, leering. “That’s what happened? I saw you go sniffing after her. Can you really blame her?”
Chris shook his head, resisted the urge to yell at the man. “She still insists that I… we drowned some woman, she actually believes it.”
Larry sniffed. “Well didn’t you?”
Chris narrowed his eyes, “No!” he snapped. “And don’t get fucking metaphorical on me either; the slut is not that worthy of deep thought.”
Larry leaned back in the booth and placed his hands behind his head. “She’s a gem, she really is. You know when she comes she just sighs, she doesn’t scream or make any sort of din, she just sighs and it’s like eating a cherry cordial, she just melts like sugar.”
Chris felt a scowl on his face, “You can’t be serious,” he said. “She’s a fucking Siamese cat, all claws and yowls I doubt she would even know how to make love as it is. I’ve seen Patty with whores too, he doesn’t know how either. He only knows how to bang the shit outta em.”
Larry half grinned, Chelios saw the corner of his mustache turn up and then drop back down. “She does like it rough, she begs for it, and if you won’t give it to her that way she’ll slap it outta ya, heh, a real gem.”
Chris glared at Larry, imagined suddenly the lanky man’s arms and legs entangled with that howling wench. “Does Patty know you’re fucking her? I mean that would be pretty stupid of you after what happened.”
“You tried,” Larry said, “Last night, what do you care?”
Chris snorted. “Yeah and I got a fresh cut for my troubles.”
“She was really serious then,” Larry said. “She don’t like you.”
“Boo fuckin hoo,” Chelios hissed. “What’s your deal with her?”
Larry ordered another round of drinks and Chris gulped his down while Larry sipped his. “Certainly not the same deal as you,” Larry said. “The girl is my pet, understand? She purrs for me, she loves me; she obeys everything I tell her to do without question. She’s completely under my control and it’s nice that way, I like it that way.”
Chris shook his head.
“You,” Larry continued, “On the other hand are addicted to that one little taste you had of her. That’s all it takes, you had a taste and admit it, you still wake up at night trembling, hard for that brief moment when you felt that slick little…”
“Shut up!” Chris snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Forced too,” Larry grinned. “You want her forced. I don’t blame you, there’s something that feels so right when you rape a girl. There’s something about how their face twists in pain, how tight they are and if you do it right, they follow like puppies wanting more. It’s what men have been doing since the beginning of time, since before there was such a thing as fucking for love and Kama Sutra. You’re tapped into that ancient part of your brain and now here you are, grumbling in anger for the one that got away, heh heh twice.”
“And she thinks I’m the one who needs to die?” Chris said calmly, horrified at the inhuman blackness in Larry’s eyes. That blackness he’d seen in so many men’s eyes, a blackness he saw in himself sometimes, and he hated.
Larry grinned. “You’re missing out on a good thing too,” he said and he moved in close to Chris. He felt the urge to draw away from him, Larry’s fingers flicked through his hair. “You don’t have to force her and she’s as tight as a girl, she knows how to do it all, a real gift.”
Chris wrinkled his nose. “You’re poisoned with her, like the others.” He said. “She has the ability to destroy us all, you know this?”
Larry sat back, the smile still on his face. “I’ve seen her type before,” he said. “You’ve heard about her type in history. You’re absolutely correct, Chris. They’re pretty, slim, damaged little things and her main talent is to taint and destroy just about every human she comes into contact with whether she intends to or not. Her very existence causes trouble and men come back for more. And I’ve already told her to never have children because they always get destroyed in the process. The poison tends to live on in the kids, it always does.”
“Then what are you grinning about?” Chris asked, feeling lulled and curious by Larry’s professorial, suddenly soothing voice. “You seem smug. She’s dangerous.”
“Like I said before,” Larry said, “She’s my pet. I OWN her. She will do what I tell her to do; I’m perfectly safe and really so are you as long as she continues to obey me. So calm down.”
“Roses have thorns, Larry,” Chris said. “You’re fooling yourself if you think you have her under control. She hasn’t harmed you because she’s probably sitting back like some goddamned spider, waiting for you to show her your weak spot. And when you least expect it she’s gonna fuck you over so fast you won’t remember where you left your dick.”
“She hasn’t gone to the police,” Larry said calmly, “Has she? It’s been over a year and she’s never told anyone but me.”
Chris shrugged. “I’m beginning to think we should have killed her.”
Larry narrowed his eyes, lost his genteel expression. “If I ever hear of you going near her again, I’ll snap your arm and cut off your balls, understand?”
“Yeah,” Chris said, “I understand.”
She’ll destroy you. She’s poison.
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