Page 47 of Jackal


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The male nursery web spider brings a gift to the female. The female checks it out and if she approves, he mates with her while she unwraps her gift and eats it; however, the male often lies. Sometimes he sucks out the food and gives the beautifully wrapped exoskeleton, or even just a twig. When the female finds out the truth, it’s over for the male.

“You’ve been paying off Yvonne an awful lot. Where are you hiding these days, Jackal?” Selfish asks when she sees me walking past the pool.

“If I wanted you to know, you would,” I tell her as nonchalantly as I can, heartbeat quickening. “A man needs time to himself every now and then. I’m not hiding; I’m decompressing.”

She flips her sunglasses back over her eyes. “As long as you make your appointments on time, we won’t have a problem.”

For once I’m grateful for the lazy-as-fuck handler. Never thought I’d appreciate anything about her, but I’m breathing easier as I walk into the compound. I have two appointments to get ready for, one closeby and the other twenty minutes away. I shower and put on a nice suit for the first, straightening my tie when my Silverbook alerts me to a call.

I look at the screen and it’s Sean. It’s too bad—I liked the guy when I first came here, and now I cringe every time I hear his name. I swallow my fucking pride and connect.

“Hello, favorite End Man of the Blue,” he says.

It doesn’t help that he says things like that.

“Hello, Governor. To what do I owe this honor?”

“I’m hosting a small dinner party tomorrow night and wondered if you could join me. I know you must get overloaded with all the parties and events you have to attend, but this one will be low-key, I promise.”

“I’ll have to check the schedule and see if that’s an option…” I start.

“I hope you don’t mind, I already cleared it with Selfice and it looks like you’re clear.”

My temper flares and I check myself before speaking. “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night then.”

“Seven o’clock. Come hungry.”

We hang up after brief goodbyes, and I hit the punching bag I’ve kept in every bedroom since becoming an End Man. Again and again. Until my hand is numb and so is my mind. I need another shower and hurriedly take one, which makes me late for my first appointment.

“You’re late,” Mrs. Wilson says.

The other Mrs. Wilson stands in the background, glowering. I suspect the latter isn’t keen on needing me to impregnate her wife. First Mrs. Wilson puts her hands on my lapels and pulls. Okay then. We’ve got an aggressive one.

“You will have to stay extra.” She tsks and pulls me by the hand.

“No, I’ll be leaving on time,” I tell her.

She drops my hand and stares at me. “Are we going to have a problem?”

“Nope,” I force a stiff smile onto my face. “But I do have other appointments, and I can guarantee an orgasm in ten minutes.”

She appears to be satisfied with my guarantee because she climbs me right in the foyer, her wife watching. My stomach turns over and I pull back, taking a deep breath. Am I losing my edge? I feel nauseated.

“Good,” she says. “Because I—”

“I need you to stop talking right fucking now.”

She looks alarmed for a moment, but her mouth curls up in a grin.

It’s a good thing she likes rude because that’s the only way the union is culminated. We make it to the bedroom. I close my eyes the rest of the time, she shuts the fuck up, and we get it done. Well, I get it done. She comes twice, but when I pull out, she’s still bucking and rubbing herself, and she starts squirting everywhere. The fuck. I wipe off my face. Nothing against the act—it’d be fun to see Phoenix explode like that—but seeing Mrs. Wilson squirt makes me throw up a little in my mouth.

When I get ready to leave, I don’t look at either one of them as I walk past. I see them in my peripheral, standing in front of their ceramic mushroom collection.

She starts to say something before I open the door and I slam it while she’s still talking.

I don’t know what’s happening.

I wish I could talk to Folsom.

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