Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Saturday, June 21, 2008

The Number One Under Heaven (36)

It was dark outside as the black Alphard sped along the final part of its journey, having arrived at last in the largely deserted outskirts of the port city of Qinzhou. The dim lights of the suburbs were still a welcome change from the pitch black highway they had just taken hours to traverse. By now, Sophie was in a deep sleep, her mind no longer willing to deny her fate, her eyes unable to fend off her abject weariness.

Somewhere between Liuzhou and Nanning, the four accomplices had stopped for a brief rest, pissing by the roadside before switching duties, so that Sophie was now flanked by gang leader Wei Dang and one of the others. The burly thug who had grabbed her off the street in Guilin was up front, in the passenger seat. “I don’t think the guimei runt is going to make it,” he half-whispered to the replacement driver, sitting next to him. “Why the fuck d’you say that, shrimp-brain?” Wei piped up from the rear, overhearing despite the man’s hushed tone. “She won’t drink,” he explained, meekly. “And I don’t think she’s asleep, I think she’s in a… a–” “Coma? Don’t be so fucking stupid,” Wei chastised. “She’s in shock, that’s all. She’ll come round, you idiot.” “And w-what happens then? You know, if she’s… er, not dead after all?” the man persisted. “We deliver her to the contact as planned, locust dick! What else?” But although Wei was quick to dismiss his subordinate he, too, harboured doubts. “He’ll be in the Marina. Waiting for us, you’ll see. And then we get out of there.” As fast as we can… he added, mentally. For behind his false bluster, Wei was distinctly uneasy at the prospect of meeting once again with the embodiment of terror his contact represented. The less he saw of the notorious Bei Din Din, the better. For over the years, he had heard stories whose recollection now made his stomach churn. As if snatching the girl had not been a risky enough job in itself, he would now have to run the gauntlet of an encounter with the hardest, least predictable man he knew. Someone whose reputation for fearlessness meant that even the leaders of southern China’s underworld left him alone. “And why don’t you just shut up, anyway? Fucking dog turd! You’ll wake her up!” But inside, Wei chastised himself for taking out his angst on the hapless hoodlum sitting up front. He knew he would be needing to keep his wits about him in the coming hour, when losing his composure like he just had might cost him dearly…

When Blake awoke it was neither dark, nor light. In the grey in between, he was confused at first as to whether it was dusk or dawn, such was the extent of his disorientation. Groping to one side he suddenly recoiled, on feeling her body next to his. The skin felt different – the silk of her panties, her scent vaguely recalling a distant memory. Abruptly, he sat up. Where am I? Although smaller than his wife’s, the body of the woman was equally curvy and it entranced him, instantly. Lying back down, Blake instinctively cupped a breast as the recollection of the previous day’s events jostled for position, rushing rudely back inside his throbbing head.

He began reconstructing. Wincing upon his recollection of events at the Red Pepper, he pushed his groin against the curves of Elle’s behind, in an attempt to distract himself from contemplation of the grovelling apology he knew he would be offering his mentor. But it was the tone in John’s voice that worried him most of all. …Not sure I can go on doing this… Think I’d better get back to work… It was that which hurt, more than anything. Because he knew his friend was right. Knew that John was disappointed at his behaviour, was perhaps finally on the verge of giving up on him, and with some justification. Blake put a mental roadblock there, unwilling for the moment to confront that particular demon. He focused instead on the woman’s body. Feeling around to the front of her panties, he pushed his fingers inside, to seek the fleshy prize that would distract him from his doubts, and allow him to escape, temporarily. Generously, Elle turned towards him, her body willing in spite of her slumber. Blake gripped her, gratefully, taking the opportunity to smell her neck. He filled his lungs with its musky warmth while she, eyes still closed, reached down to pull her panties off her feet. Within moments he was on top of her, pumping away inelegantly to the rhythm of her groans, before shooting, altogether too soon, inside. It had been a clumsy encounter, this first real coupling of theirs, Blake comforted only by the knowledge that it had taken place while he was half-asleep, and she only half-awake.

Sensing that he would not be able to rest, he began thinking about making preparations to leave. “Elle–” he began, whispering into her face, but his lover quickly turned away. Instinctively, he cupped a hand to check his breath. Stale. Disgusting. Jesus, he blasphemed. Blake dropped off the bed and moved silently through to the bathroom, where the only light was provided by two wide candles, each flickering on either side of the hand basin. Thank fuck it’s dark, he mouthed at his reflection. Blake had rarely looked in worse shape, for as long as he could remember. His cheeks looked puffy and his eyes, he knew, were red. There was no indication in the frame of his torso that this was once the body of an athletic young man. Sort yourself out, you cunt, barked a voice from somewhere inside his woozy head. Blake’s hands shook as he then fumbled with the mirrored doors in front of him, finally managing to prize one open, while the other banged shut again. He gargled with the strong mouthwash he was able to find there, unintentionally swallowing a large gulpful. Eyes watering, he bit back the fierce burn that threatened to creep up his throat and expel itself. Get yourself home, son, he now counselled, spitting a mouthful of bile into the sink.

posted by Kirk at 10:13 pm  

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