Page 2 of Feral
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I sass, already following him out of the crowded bar and anxious to get this underway. A shiny black Lexus LC 500 lights up at the touch of his fingers and I know one thing for sure; if he fucks even half as good as he looks, I am in for a long, sweat-filled night.
***
Two hours later I’m picking my bra and panties off the black marble floor of his vast apartment on Lexington Avenue when I feel his muscled arm wrap around my middle, attempting to pull me back under his black satin sheets.
“Leaving already?” he asks as I slip into my heels. I turn, just to save the image of his beautiful face for safekeeping. His body too.
“Yes. I need to get back home. It’s been nice.”
“Nice?” he asks, wrapping the luxuriously soft fabric around his hips and standing up next to me. “It’s been nice?” he repeats as if I didn’t hear him right the first time. “We just fucked like animals and it was nice?”
I make a face, he’s got a point. Nice is too little a word to describe what happened between us two. “I mean, it was spectacular,” I correct, a smile slowly forming on his face.
“That’s more like it. It may well have been the best fuck of my entire life, Miss…”
“No names. Please. Makes it easier for both of us.”
“No names. Ok.” He escorts me to the door, opens it hesitantly, and leans over to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride home?”
“That would beat the whole purpose, don’t you think? You’d know where I live and I’m not sure you aren’t a serial killer or any other kind of psycho.”
“See you around, then, Miss No Name,” his voice echoes in the empty hallway, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Goodbye,” I whisper back just as the elevator door closes behind me.
God, I fucking needed this tonight!
Chapter 2
Jacob
The pain in my right leg has escalated from the usual dull throb into a burning,
glaring sensation.
The hot, humid air and the strain from makin’ groceries and trucking between
the pirogue are taking their toll. Squinting under the blazing mid-summer sun,
I try to focus on unlocking the massive metal gate of my late mother’s estate but
my fingers are slippery and the key falls to the ground, prolonging my agony.
Muttering a silent curse, I move my hybrid walker cane a little further to the left
and bend forward slowly to pick the damn thing up. A soft breeze riffles through
the cypress trees, warning of an imminent storm.
On my third attempt, the gate finally gives way and I breathe a sigh of relief.
The courtyard is riddled with wild bushes and the few trees that once blossomed, bearing succulent fruits are now wilted and dry, their frail branches reminiscent of a glorious past. Spanish moss droops from the sprawling limbs of the few remaining live oaks, the unrelenting humid heat of rural Louisiana drying everything out. A sudden movement amongst the shrubbery catches my eye and I glimpse a fiery orange tabby cat running away at the sight of me.
Slowly, I make my way through the narrow gravel path and up the ramp I had installed to avoid the several steps leading to the century-old Creole estate’s front door. It’s funny; sometimes I think this place, however neglected, is in better shape than I am. I push the wooden door open, a squeaking sound welcoming me into the blessed darkness of the interior. Once inside, the eerie silence blankets me within its comforting embrace.
Certain no soul will dare venture to my hiding place, I push the door shut and pick up the four-legged cane I use at home. A booming sound echoes through the empty rooms and I turn my gaze upward at the skylight.
A dark front is moving swiftly to the north.
