WHO ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT? Flood’s mind detonated.
But Carol had given him his card; she worked directly for Phipps, not Leon. If she was two-timing on Leon, she’d have Leon’s card, wouldn’t she? he reasoned.
It didn’t matter. Nothing would happen to either girl because Flood was going to make an anonymous tip to the police right now. Last night was a mistake, a weakness on his part.
And that won’t happen again, he vowed.
It amazed him how the sound from their window carried so well up here. He could even hear the knock on their door.
“That’s her,” Leon said.
Oscar got up and walked out of the frame.
Flood stood shivering. He watched, unblinking, as Therese walked into a corner of the window. “Hi, guys!” she greeted. “Got a beer or something?”
Oscar handed her one.
“And I’ll need a oxy for later.”
“No problem, babe.”
“Oh, and look!” she exclaimed, all bouncy and bubbling and probably really high. She shoved some money at Leon. “Four hundred!”
“Thank you, Therese. You’re a dear.”
Flood could see her in the veil-like wrap she’d been wearing at the bar, her sleek back to the window, her short, bright-scarlet hair. Her rump looked naked due to the t-back, a perfect double-orb of flesh.
“I got some time,” she said, but she seemed jittery now, overstrung. Was it the dope, or was she starting to think something might be wrong? “Got two doctors said they’ll meet me at midnight for a double blowjob, said they’d pay five bills. You guys wanna fuck me first? I’m dying for some cock.” A giggle, then, that sounded nervous. “I been so horny all day I been fingering myself whenever I’ve been sitting at a table.”
“Yeah, I could use some of that,” Leon said.
She shed the veil, then flicked off the t-back and bra. It seemed so perfunctory when she turned for the bed, but an instant later her breasts were suddenly tremoring. Her eyes bulged above Leon’s opened hand, which had snapped around and clamped over her mouth. “Not too hard,” Leon said very calmly. “Just put her lights out…”
WHAP!
Oscar, having already slipped on one of the sand-mitts, clouted her solidly once in the forehead. She fell limp as a sack of packing peanuts in Leon’s arms. He tossed her on the bed—
—while Flood…watched.
His hand remained poised in mid-air—just like last night—about to reach for the phone. But instead—
Call. The. Police…
—he watched.
Oscar wrapped some duct tape around her mouth, then dropped his slacks and straddled her chest. She lay totally unconscious, arms and legs askew, head lolled to one side. Oscar spat liberally into the valley, then pressed the breasts tight around his penis and began to pump. Meanwhile, Leon had picked up one of Therese’s inch-soled platform sandals, was fidgeting with it. “There we go, Osc,” he said. He found some sort of clasp on the bottom of the sandal, then was peeling back the sole. “Stoolie wasn’t jiving us.”
“For the money you pay him to be our squeal, why would he?”
Inside the sandal there was some sort of a compartment, from which Leon withdrew a roll of cash. “Damn it, Osc. Bitch was hiding twelve hundred bucks in here. My money.”
Oscar humped the slick crevice between Therese’s bulging breasts, his hairy ass pistoning back and forth with the precision of a derrick. “And she was gonna leave here tomorrow and give it all to that white nigger Henry Phipps.”
Leon was not offended by the “n”-word. “This shit hurts, man. I treat these girls right. What is it about that goddamn Phipps that has my bitches handin’ him their money like he’s Snoop Dog and Tupac combined?”
Oscar’s answer was forestalled for his orgasm, which looped into Therese’s still face. When he began talking again, he was wringing the last of it out of his cock like water out of a dishrag. “It ain’t him, Leon. Wanna know what it is?”
“Tell me, my man.”
“It’s you. You’re too nice to these bitches. You let ‘em walk on you. If there’s a buck to be made, these girls’ll eat cum out of an ass-crack like a kid eating icing off a cupcake. Only thing white-trash like this respects is a Mack-Daddy who means business, a hard fuckin’ hand, man.”
“You know, Osc? You’re right. It don’t make sense, but you’re right. And this is one hand that’s gonna get real hard real fast. But it just hurts, ya know?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Oscar was pulling his pants back up. “It ain’t no big deal in the long run anyway. Any crew’s gotta couple bad girls. We’re weeding ours out.” Oscar paused, extended a hand to the still-unconscious Therese. “You wanna piece of this before I start working on her?”
“No. She disgusts me.”
And the entire scene disgusted Flood. He watched from his secret vantage point, hand still in the air to pick up the phone. His most sophisticated human senses felt severed, leaving only a blazing, mindless lust. His penis throbbed so hard it hurt, erect now beyond any maximum he’d ever experienced. Only the barest filament left of his spirit remained bellowing at him to call the police as, below, Oscar re-donned his sand-mitt and re-straddled Therese’s chest.
“Remember, don’t kill her,” Leon instructed. “But I want that pretty little face of hers fucked up royally. When Phipps takes his first look at her, I want him to puke.”
WHAP! came the first blow, which most certainly crushed her nose. Four more to either side just as certainly shattered her cheekbones and jaw. In only a matter of seconds, her face more resembled a stepped-on jelly donut than a human visage.
It was as though Flood’s skin had been nailed to the wall and he was pulling that skin through the nailheads when he finally managed to drag himself away from the window to the desk with the phone. Only three steps but in those three steps the hardest erection of his life went utterly limp.
Then that last filament of humanity made its exit.
If anything, his cock grew even harder when he stepped back to the window, a tethered animal with rabies, just about to break its chain. Flood knew then that he had no choice at this point…
He was masturbating at the window, sweat pouring. Oscar had already popped Therese hard over each eye, turning them to blue-black puffs of flesh. And now—
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
He was belly-punching her, his stout arm piledriving straight down with each blow. Bulbous breasts jounced with each slug.
Flood’s climax burst, releasing the mental stopper on the day’s agonizing back-up of semen. Like last night, it flew out the window in what seemed several yard-long strings. And like last night, there’d been not an inkling of any last-second sabotaging image of Felicity. His orgasm unwound as a celebration, bringing tears to his eyes. He staggered back when it was finally all gone, his loins buzzing. His cock felt content as a beast that had just fed gluttonously.
When he regained some order of sense, he found himself looking back down.
Please, God. Let them be done…
Oscar and Leon weren’t done.
The bald man hunkered low, in one hand an empty beer bottle, in the other a hammer.
“You said you wanted her fucked up. Well, this’ll fuck her up.”
Leon stood, a knuckle to his lips, contemplating. “No, no—”
“What? Going back to Mr. Nice Guy?”
“She could bleed to death, Osc. I don’t want that. I know— Do like you did that one chick we had a couple years ago. Remember? That Gothy looking bitch who was trying to hustle our girls for some service in Key West.”