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That was 20 years ago. He’d been out for the last 15… and interestingly enough, except for a few assault charges, had kept his nose clean.
My blood ran cold as I looked at a mug shot of Lou, twenty years younger, staring at the camera with a smirk.
Like, You’ll never guess what I got away with.
Though it had happened just a year ago, I wondered if it could include killing a young woman with a butterfly tattoo.
I had to shut off the computer, I got so sick to my stomach.
20
My car was still at the Seven Veils since Jack had dropped me off at my motel. After consulting the city’s bus schedule on the internet – which took a PhD to decipher – I caught a ride to work at 7PM.
Jack called me on the way.
“So – ready for Round Two?”
I smiled; I couldn’t help myself. “You’re a very persistent man.”
“I am. But that’s not an answer.”
“I have to work tonight.”
“No rest for the wicked, eh?”
“I’m weary, not wicked.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Whatever, Mr. TKO.”
“I really like how you’re mentally preparing yourself for the third round.”
“What, when I ‘go down’?” I asked sarcastically.
Damn it, I shouldn’t have said that. Now I was imagining myself on a bed, his naked, muscular body beside me. I pictured myself reaching down and encircling his hard, thick cock with my hand, angling it upwards, and slowly lowering my wet, open mouth around his –
Apparently somebody else was imagining something similar.
“Mmmm… wait… just let me savor the way you said that…”
“I’m hanging up, Mr. Pervert,” I threatened, not meaning a word of it.
“Hey, it’s not MY fault you have a voice made for sex.”
He thought I had a voice made for sex?
His voice was sex. It made me wet just to hear it.
Not that I was about to tell him that.
“Aural sex?” I suggested.
“Okay, now I REALLY like your mental preparation.”
“AURAL, not ‘oral.’ A, U, R, A, L,” I spelled out. “You know… because I have a VOICE made for sex?”
“Was that a pun? Or an attempt at one, anyway?”
