Laura s Story an Interracial Lesbian RomanceChapter 189
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MayhemChapter 7 free porn video
The next month and a half was the best of my life since Kathy died. I spent as much time with Cynthia as both her schedule and mine allowed. The closer to the tour the busier she was and the charter business was picking up also so neither one of us got to spend as much time together as we wanted.
Still all in all I couldn't complain. The time we did spend together was fantastic and I don't mean just the sex. Although come to think about it that was pretty fantastic also. She was beautiful, sexy as hell, smarter than anyone had a right to be and ... Well, what else is there to say? It was no secret I was head over heels for her and really enjoying myself for the first time in years.
It was about a week before the official kickoff of Tink's grand tour and Cynthia had asked me about a month before to go with her to a big party put on by the promoters to celebrate it. Unfortunately I'd been booked for a weekend cruise and couldn't find anyone to take it for me so I had to decline.
As fates would have it the booking canceled the afternoon we were scheduled to depart which was the same day as the party. I tried to get in touch with Cynthia but for some reason my calls weren't getting through or she was unavailable. That was a bit strange since her AI should have been able to either put me through or at least tell her I called but for some reason it didn't. But what the hell, I still had the invitation so I thought I'd surprise her and show up.
This was a formal affair so I had to dress up. No bike for Danny boy this time. Yes I have a car; I just don't use it that often. Anyway I drove over to the shindig and had the valet park it somewhere amongst the fleet of limos. I thought I recognized Tink's in the lot but the driver hanging around it wasn't her normal one so maybe I was wrong. Getting in was as easy as showing the card and having my name checked against the guest list and suddenly I was rubbing elbows with the Tampa elite.
The place was huge so I wandered around for a bit until I found what I'd hoped was the main ballroom. I figured Cynthia would be there schmoozing with the guests if she was anywhere. She was there all right, but she wasn't alone.
I saw her from across the room as the crowd parted momentarily. She was draped all over this tall, hunky looking guy; you know the type. The kind that poses for the covers of the cheap romance novels. Broad hairless chest, tight-fitting suit, immaculate full head of hair flowing down over his shoulders. Worse, she was looking up at him. I'd seen that look before. It was the same look she'd given me a thousand times before. Adoration, lust, love; it was all there.
My gut tightened up; no, more than that, it felt like someone had driven a knife directly into my stomach. I swear my heart stopped beating and my lungs just froze. I mean there was nothing; it was like my body and brain had gone into a sort of suspended animation.
I'm not sure how long I stood there but gradually I could feel the paralysis wear off and I could feel my heart start to beat rapidly. Breathing was shallow and quick; my muscles began to clench and unclench, especially in my arms and legs. I could see and feel my focus begin got narrow. Have you ever had this happen to you? It's almost like the outside world becomes fuzzy; sounds muted and it's like a tunnel of complete clarity opens between you and your objective. That's what happened to me. Suddenly everything between me and Cynthia became sharp and bright; I felt like I could see every individual fiber of the clothes the people between us were wearing; taste the scents wafting through the room; see the molecules of air as they gently vibrated.
This is not a good thing, by the way. It's happened to me before, many times before. It means my body is preparing for combat, priming and arming itself like an AI guided missile locking onto its target. Bad things have happened when this occurs; really bad things that usually resulted in copious amounts of blood and bodies. Somehow I was able to check my hand from reaching back to draw my pistol but I couldn't stop my foot from taking that first step towards them.
"Danny, please," I heard a pleading voice from behind me. The sound surprised me and because of my focus the hind brain almost won, my hand actually came to rest on my pistol butt. I don't know how I did it but I was able to stop from pulling my piece but doing so made me disoriented; I wavered slightly and my focus disappeared and all the sounds, smells and sights of the room came crashing in on me again. I turned around. It was Tink.
"I am so sorry," she croaked. I could see tears streaming down her face. I suppose it's a good thing that women's makeup is all waterproof nowadays because it would have left big ugly streaks on her pretty face. It didn't do that but it did look sad.
"I am so sorry, Danny," she repeated. "Please don't hurt her."
"Why?" I whispered hoarsely. "Why?"
She didn't answer but instead grabbed my hand and pulled me through the back of the crowd and out of the room. I was numb and followed like a toy on a pull-string. Once in the hallway she continued dragging me until she found a closed door. Opening it she peeked in and then pulled me in behind her. As soon as I was through the door she closed it and turned to face me. Tears were still coming from her eyes and dripping off of her cheek.
"I wanted to tell you," she started. "But I couldn't. She's still my mother and I just couldn't."
"Why?" was all I could repeat.
"Because that's the way she is," she answered vehemently. "She does that all the time. I don't think she can help herself. She's fucked-up is why. Every man she's ever been with: it's the same thing; She'll fall madly in love, everything is fine for a few months and then suddenly she isn't in love and she's with someone else. I don't know why; she just does it."
"I am so sorry," she said again. "I wanted to warn you but ... God damn it she's my mother! I was hoping ... I was hoping this time..."
"What?" I said probably a little sharper than I should have.
"I was hoping this time would be different," she said looking me straight in the eyes. I'll give her one thing: she's no coward. It may have looked like a mouse standing up to a bear but she didn't shy away. She didn't even avert her eyes. I don't know what she expected but I could tell whatever it was she was prepared to take it like an adult, a mature adult.
"She could at least have told me," I spat out.
"She wouldn't," Tink said becoming rather calm. I think she realized I was past the point of getting physical. "She never has. She just stops taking your calls, won't even acknowledge you're alive. If someone asks about you she'll pretend she's never heard of you. If she sees you again she'll greet you like a stranger. Yeah, she's sick and twisted but I don't know what to do about it. Believe me I wanted to tell you and I really planned to do it when you came back on Monday, but then you showed up."
"I just don't understand," I sighed. The numbness was wearing off to be replaced by a mixture of rage, hurt, and confusion, mostly confusion.
"I don't either," she said. "She's fucked up every relationship she's ever had; some with men almost as good as you. I really thought it was different this time. She was much more calm, in control. I was really hoping she'd finally grown up or maybe realized you were the best thing that could have happened to her and then..." She waved her hand helplessly. "It blew up of all of a sudden."
"Shit," I hissed and rubbed my head. "I need to talk to her."
"That won't do any good," Tink shook her head. "Like I said, she'll just pretend she doesn't even know you. I suppose if you want, you could go out there and make a scene. She deserves it and the scuzzies would love it. Yeah it would probably play hell with the tour, not that I think you give a fuck about that right now, and shit, who knows? The publicity pukes would probably love it. They love getting out names on the vid for anything unless it's about me being knocked up."
"So," she said taking a deep breath, "if you want to do that, go ahead. I won't hold it against you although again I doubt you care a whole lot about that. I would appreciate it if you didn't, but I would understand if you did." Then she just stood there looking at me.
"Fuck," I whispered. The rage was gone and surprisingly enough so was the confusion. What was left was mostly emptiness and the hurt, of course. "Don't worry, Antigua; I won't disturb your party. I'm leaving and I won't be back to bother you again." I turned to leave but she reached out and put her hand on my arm to stop me. I turned back to see what she wanted.
"I was afraid," she said. "I know how dangerous you are, how dangerous your friends are." I was about to interrupt to tell her she didn't need to worry. I don't beat up children or women, even bug-nut crazy ones, but she continued before I could. "But that isn't what scared me. You can be violent and deadly when you need to be, Daniel, but you're one of the most in-control people I've ever met. I wasn't afraid of you doing something, I was afraid I'd lose you."
"What?" I wasn't expecting that.
"I've been doing this crazy shit for six years, Daniel. I've been the star or the rising star since I was fifteen. It's not the kind of business where you make friends. Oh sure, there are a lot of people I know, but no real friends. I enjoy being with you, talking with you. You accept me for who I am, not what I am and that means a lot to me. The thing I was most afraid of was that you wouldn't want to see me ever again."
"Damn," I said closing my eyes. "I don't know. I really don't know. Right now I don't want to see, hear, touch or even think about anything that has the Delmar name associated with it. Maybe later, but not now."
"I understand," she nodded solemnly. "Can I call you when I get back from my tour?"
"I don't know, we'll see. Maybe. Probably."
"Can I send you messages through Sara while I'm on tour?" she asked.
"Don't push it." I warned.
"Can't help it," she said with a shrug. "I'm a pushy bitch."
"And your language doesn't get any better," I chided.
"Bad influences ― what can I say?" She shrugged again but seemed a lot more relaxed.
"We can talk when you get back," I said. "But no promises."
"I can take that," she responded.
"Right now it's the best I can do. See you around, Tinker Bell."
+ + +
I drove around aimlessly for a while trying not to think about what happened but doing it anyway. I'm not sure how it happened but suddenly I found myself in Bennie's parking lot. I debated: go in a face the music or go back to the boat and get stinking drunk. The boat didn't sound like such a grand idea just then: too many recent memories, but getting stinking drunk sure did. Besides if the team was there tonight they wouldn't know what happened. Not that I would expect a ration of shit from them, not for something like this anyway.
Most of the team was there just like I figured they would be with the exception of Sam and Stan. I assumed Sam was with Natalie but was kind of surprised that both of them weren't here until I remembered Natalie still had a couple of gigs she'd committed to before she'd met Sam. I think they were in Ft. Wayne or some other God-forsaken place like that. Stan I just assumed was out running around with one of the multitude of boyfriends he had. Monogamy wasn't a word he could even spell let alone practice. Everybody else was there.
"Cap'n," "How you doing boss?" I could tell right away they knew. Mike could tell what I was thinking.
"Antigua called and told us," she admitted. "What a bitch!"
"Yeah well, that's life ain't it?" I said sliding in beside her. I waved the server over and told her to bring me a scotch, a bottle not a glass.
"Don't worry, boss," she didn't slur at all. I couldn't tell if she'd been drinking or not. She may not have been tight but she was sure wound up. "She'll get hers. The fucking whore will never know what hit her."
"No," I said firmly just as the bottle and a number of shot glasses were plunked down on the table. "Nobody touches her! Nobody does anything to her in any way and that's final. Nothing."
"But boss..." Mike whimpered.
"Nothing, Mike, nothing." I poured my first glass and slugged it down. The whisky burned wonderfully as it slid down my throat and exploded in my stomach.
"But she..."
"Nothing, Mike," I said again pouring another. "In fact I want this to be the last time we talk about this at all. Yeah, she did me dirty but I'm a big boy and can live with it. What I want to do now is forget the whole fucking thing ever happened. I'm going to get stone drunk tonight and when I wake up sometime tomorrow I'm going to take a little time off. I haven't had a vacation in five years so I'm going to take one now."
"Sounds like a good idea," said Top before Mike could open her mouth again and the rest of the team nodded. Except Mike, of course. She pouted and sulked next to me but remarkably kept her mouth shut.
"Where you going?" he continued.
"Down south somewhere," I said downing my third. "Hadn't really thought about it much. Just head out into the Gulf and point her south. Maybe RDJ. (That's Rio di Janeiro. It'd been pretty torn up during the war but I hear it's been making a comeback.) Maybe just island hop. Just someplace to drink and party for a bit."
"Yeah, sound like a good plan," Top nodded. "You've needed some time to unwind for quite a while now."
"And get laid," Mike broke in. "Get yourself enough pussy you'll never remember what you wanted the bitch for in the first place. Ouch!" Somebody must have kicked her under the table. I was on my fourth by then and it seemed kind of funny.
The rest of the night got a bit fuzzy after that.
+ + +
The next thing I remembered was waking up on the rear deck of the Katherine with the early afternoon sun beating down on me. Sure it should have been uncomfortable but to be honest my head and body were hurting so badly the sun was nothing more than a minor annoyance. Fuck! I hadn't even made it to my bed. I sort of opened my eyes (yes it hurt!) and discovered that was probably a good thing since I was lying in a puddle of puke.
As disgusting as that was, the thought of actually moving was even less appealing. Well for a little while it was anyway. Groaning I pushed myself up and stumbled down to the head for a shower. Depositing my filthy clothes in the laundry I had Sara run me a shower alternating from way too hot to way too cold trying to shock my body back into some semblance of life. Afterwards I at least felt clean. I still didn't feel human but I didn't feel dead either ― just wishing I were. Sure I could have taken some pain meds and Detox and felt much better pretty quick but damn it, I earned this hangover and I wasn't about to give it up. I was still wallowing in self-pity and wanted my body to feel the same way my soul did: like shit. At least I felt well enough to walk down to the office and get everything set up for my trip. I had to find someone to take my place for the charters for the next few weeks and other such bullshit.
Stepping onto the pier wouldn't you know I'd met the one person I didn't want to see, ever. She was standing there wringing her hands and looking about as scared as I've ever seen anybody. I tested my emotions for a heartbeat just to see if any of the hate I'd felt before would still be there but that's the great thing about a really good hangover, you just don't give a fuck anymore.
"Go away, Cynthia," I said wearily.
"Danny..." she started tentatively.
"I mean it, Cynthia." I said quickly. "I don't want to hear it. No apologies, no whys, no nothing. Just. Go. Away."
"She's gone!" Cynthia sobbed and then really broke down crying. Maybe I'm really am a prick but right then the sight of her crying actually made me feel a little better.
"Who's gone?" I asked just wishing everything would go away.
"Antigua!"
"She's probably just pissed off at you," I sighed. "She'll get over it soon. I'm sure she'll be back by tonight."
"No, she's gone! I mean somebody took her!"
"How do you figure that?" I asked. Okay, now maybe I cared just a little.
"We got this this morning," she said handing me a sheet of paper.
I took it and squinted as I tried to read it. Now I'd wished I'd taken the damned meds. She was right, it was a ransom note. The standard bullshit about not going to the police or you'll never see her again, blah, blah, blah; a number, a pretty big number, to be transferred to a numbered bank account in China and a deadline. It looked legit; if it was then it looked like Tink had been taken.
"What do the cops say?" I asked.
"Our lawyers said not to call them," she answered still crying. The shysters were probably right for once. If history had proven anything it was the chances of the cops finding and returning a live kidnap victim were about the same as me dating a supermodel: slim to none with Slim having just left town. "They said it wouldn't do any good and they'd kill her just for trying. They said people like this have informers in the department and they'd find out right away if we reported it." Another good assumption. That was two in a row for the lawyers; another sign of the Apocalypse?
This was beginning to look like a bad deal all around, especially for Tinker Bell. Kidnappings for ransom have been around for thousands of years but it wasn't until the late twentieth century that they became big business in South and Central America. In fact it was almost an industry unto itself. By the 1990s kidnappings in old Mexico were so common they were rarely reported as news. Back then at least the kidnappers had some ethical standards. If the family, company or whomever paid the ransom the victim was returned alive about ninety percent of the time. Most of the time if the kidnappers were good enough to make a successful grab the ransom was paid and life went on. People even bought insurance against it.
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