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FUN TILL SOMEBODY DIES: Part Four
By Paul Corman
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Not rated by the Author.
Part four of a Murder Mystery
“You don’t want to fuck me anymore! I know! You think I’m ugly!”
“I think you are beautiful.” And I meant it. Maria’s smooth skin was the color of orange petal honey, like some exotic goddess captured on canvas by Paul Gauguin, and hung in the Louvre. She had a gold fleck in each of her brown eyes that captured my heart the moment I first looked into them.
I sat up with pillows behind me. It was late in the morning. The French doors were wide open to the balcony and soft sunlight fell on the tiled floor. A breeze blew in off the ocean the temperature of Maria’s breath when she lies on top of me after we make love and whispers in my ear.
There was a cup of fresh hot coffee with some sugar cookies, sitting on the night table.
She sat on the edge of the bed showing me her back. “You get drunk and then your penis does not work!”
Too true . This last week I’d been wrestling with the demons that came to visit when I was not working. It was only when I had too much time to think that I binge drank to drive them away. I saw how selfish I’d been. The cad that I was, thinking only of myself and disregarding Maria’s penis needs.
She began to cry, pulling out the heavy weapons. I brushed back her hair and kissed her on the neck.
“You’re right,” I told her. It’s the magic phrase that never fails to turn her around. And of course in this case she really was right. Things had gone too far.
“I’ll go have a shower,” I said as I slid my hand up under her top and took one of her perfect breasts in my hand. I rubbed the nipple between finger and thumb.
She turned and let a little smile slip out. “And then you fuck me?”
“And then I fuck you.”
“Good!” She darted over to the bureau and opened the bottom drawer. “While you are making yourself clean and manly for me I shall get dressed.”
I took my coffee into the washroom and looked at myself as I brush my teeth. My eyes were red and puffy and my skin looked pasty white with a gray tinge on my cheeks. I heard Maria listening to Madonna on my portable DVD player. The mother of our Savior slutting in her underwear.
The shower water was warm coming down from the reservoir on the roof where it sat heating in the brilliant sun. It prickled my skin, digging into the tense tissue. I felt my shoulders begin to let go of the fear. I lathered the soap and washed my face and hair. I thought about Maria’s sweet taste as I prepared little Roberto for the pleasure to come. Despite neglect he seemed now eager and willing to rise to the occasion and meet his fate.
As the room filled with steam I shivered with delight. Yes, Maria was getting dressed. Oh boy, oh boy. That could only mean one thing. We were going to play her favorite game. She liked to call it ‘the rich business man and the horny hooker’.
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