Dark Impulse

"A thought."

"A thought?" she said, with an amused looked.

"A favor."

"Well..." She pursed her lips. Green eyes twinkling.

I explained what I needed without a why.

TWENTY FIVE

Sarah had talked about her fiancé during one of my critiques. He was a medical doctor who taught a graduate course on campus. I stationed myself on a bench near his parking space, and Carla parked her BMW next to it just before he was to arrive. The hood raised up, she got out dressed in a purple blouse open at the throat, short gray skirt and black heels.

It wasn't long before the doctor arrived. He was driving Sarah's red car which puzzled me. Was there economic trouble in River City? He got out instantly noticing Carla and the raised hood. I was too far away to tell what they were saying, but it wasn't hard to guess. Carla pointed to the engine and raised her arms in the I-don't-know gesture. He nodded, said something, and Carla nodded and swept her hand motioning toward the car. The doctor got in and cranked it, and it started. Carla raised her arms in a hallelujah as he got out smiling. No doubt she was saying something like, 'You're a life saver.' Etc., etc. He put the hood down. They talked some more, both smiling. He looked at his watch and nodded toward the Life Science building. She said something and he wrote something down on a piece of paper. She headed back to the car waving to him, and he waved back. As she drove past me she raised her thumb.

TWENTY SIX

I finished breakfast and poured myself another cup of coffee and lit a cigarette, sucking in the acrid fumes deeply. It was raining and I was thinking about taking a long walk down to the river. A door opened and closed across the landing. Footsteps went down the steps. I looked out the front window. Roy was getting in their brown mini van.

I sat back down mulling over what Sarah had said about my writing. That I was proselytizing. But I think that she is wrong. You have to be a true believer to proselytize. You have to believe that what you believe is true, is important. You have to want to convert others to your belief. For their good—but that's not me. I am not a true believer. I have my beliefs, but they are no more valid than the beliefs of others. And I don't care. Nothing matters in the least. Believe what the hell you want. I have, more properly, an attitude rather than a belief.

I have no interest in writing, have no talent for it. I am a sociopath. I have nothing to say to human beings. I am a predator. I took the writing course because Sarah was teaching it. I was like a tiger sensing prey. I wanted to tear her throat out, rip her to pieces. Hate is the only real emotion I am capable of.

I smoked listening to the rain patter on the window panes. I wondered how Carla was coming along with the doctor. He didn't stand a chance with her. No man did. Carla is the perfect woman, but for her and me it would be matter and antimatter.

There was a knock at the door, so faint that I wasn't aware of it for several moments. I was naked, so I slipped on a pair of trunks.

It was Kathy. She was wearing a thin housecoat with snap button up and down the front. There was a fervid look on her face as she brushed by me and walked to the bed. Her breasts began to rise and fall noticeably as she unsnapped the housecoat. She was naked underneath. She lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I took off my trunks and got between her legs and started kissing her neck and tits. She didn't move, but her breathing became audible and quickened. I was the answer to all the trashy romance novels she'd ever read, but she found herself afraid to respond like the wanton heroines in those novels. This was all new to her. Actual reality was too overwhelming, but she had wanted it over her fantasies enough to knock on my door. And I will gladly fulfill those fantasies, for in doing so I will possess her. And in time she will lick my come off the floor.

I moved down her belly kissing its firmness. I kissed the inner thighs teasing all around her cunt. Closer and closer, brushing my lips lightly over the hairs just enough to send delicate shudders of delight through her. She was breathing rapidly now, gasping for breath. Her fingers laced my hair, her hips straining upward. I touched her clit with the tip of my tongue, nibbled and sucked. She cried out, her body trembling.

I placed my hands beneath her hips and raised her up. I entered her forcefully, pushing and grinding. I slammed into her as if I wanted to crush her. Anguished gasps became ragged snorts between jittery cries and incoherent pleadings. I exploded into her, driving and hammering my erection as deep as I could force it. Her flesh sucked my flesh. She tightened around me, pulling me in. My come came and came in an endless flow. I collapsed on top of her.

When she was gone, as quietly as she'd come, I opened the closet door. Alice was tied naked to a straight-back chair, gagged and blindfolded. I think she was beginning to realize that the games she wanted to play were not games. And I think she was beginning to like it. Women are more decadent than the average man could ever imagine. The more innocent they appear the more vile they are. They are willful and will only submit to strong men. But they are never to be trusted or pitied. Husbands are always surprised to find that their wives cheat on them. 'Why,' they'll say, 'I always treated her with love and respect,' foolishly not realizing that if they'd used the whip instead, their wives would never have strayed. Women do not want love, they want the seduction of the whip. But most men have been deceived by their mothers who secretly want to emasculate them with faux affection while sadistically denying them the deep penetrating release all men what from their whore mothers. Only the whip will make their cunts receptive.

Alice was proof positive. Right now she squirmed ecstatic in anticipation of what I would do to her. Her pink nipples were hard and the seat of the chair wet with her need. I untied her, stood her outside, and tied the rope around her neck then placed it over the top of the door. I pulled her to her feet and had her stand on the chair while I tied the end of the rope around the inside door knob then closed the door. I stared at her lovely nakedness. The rope pulled tightly at her neck, stretching it. I kicked the chair out from under her. Her body slammed back against the door. Her hands shot up grasping frantically for the rope. Her toes strained downward trying to reach the floor, then she doubled her legs up pushing the soles of her feet against the door desperately trying to raise herself up. I picked up a section of lamp cord that I had cut especially for the purpose and began flailing her naked body. Red welt appeared on her breasts, her belly and thighs as I whipped her viciously. She would have screamed, but the rope around her neck strangled off any sound she could make. She banged her body wildly against the door, spittle dribbled down her chin onto her breasts, her face grew red, her eyes wild like an animal's. I struck her again and again with the rubber coated cord causing her body to lurch out of control. Red welts enveloped her arching nakedness.

Then her struggles diminished. When she was hanging listlessly I opened the closet door and untied the rope from the knob, letting her crumble onto the floor. As life began seeping back into her, I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the bed. She was as limp as a rag doll as I positioned her on her stomach. My cock was hard, the foreskin curled back on the thick stem. I spread her legs and stared at the tight asshole and the shaved cunt. I paused savoring my anticipation. I took a pillow and shoved it under her hips. I leaned over her feeling the warmth of her body radiate up against me. Slowly I pressed my cock against the pink ring of her asshole. There was a tight resistance that inflamed my passion. She arched her back as I slid into her. Her thighs trembled. Each thrust forced air audibly from her mouth. "Oh, oh, oh."

She squirmed beneath me. The warmth of her nakedness fueling my greedy lust. She brought her heels up and hammered them rhythmically against my ass. Her hands circled back grabbing my head and pulling my face down to lick and suck the back of her neck. Her fingers tugged my hair with each thrust. She was audible, moaning and taunting me with raw, abandoned obscenities to fuck her harder.

I twisted her over onto her back. She stared at me with feverish eyes, holding her mouth opened wide as I plunged my tongue into it, our tongues tangling frantically. I shoved my cock into her cunt causing her to cry out with animal intensity. Her hands were all over me, pulling, squeezing, scratching. She hooked her legs around my hips, pulling me farther into her. Her head swung from side to side as I pounding into her with loud flesh slapping sounds.

Her warm wet tongue found my ear. Her teeth gripped a lobe as her hips rotated and surged beneath my thrust. Her hands pulled at the long tangles of my hair; showered kisses over my face, begging me with hot murmurs to fuck her even harder.

I fell over on my back and grabbed the back of her neck pulling her mouth down onto my cock. She sucked forcefully with moist slurping sounds while jerking the base of it with a hand. Come filled her mouth overflowing from her lips. She swallowed greedily then licked come from her hand and my groin.

TWENTY SEVEN

A week passed then the local news exploded with news that a Dr. Martin Stendhal had been arrested for possession of illegal drugs with intent to sell. I knew the name. It was the one Sarah had told me was her fiancé's. So Carla had succeeded, as I knew she would.

It was a gray cloudy day. I stood looking out the front window smoking and watching the occasional pedestrian walk by. I wondered for a moment where each one came from and where each one was going.

I knew where I was going. I dialed Sarah's office on campus. There wasn't any answer. I didn't think there would be. She would be at the courthouse trying to arrange bail, no doubt. She would be stressed out—and vulnerable. She would need a shoulder to cry on.

There was a tap on the door. I wasn't eager for another round of sex with Kathy—not with more exciting prey in the offing.

But it was Carla.

"I was wondering why you wanted Stendhal framed," she said, sitting down at the table and lighting a cigarette," but when I saw the grieving clit at the court house I understood." Carla smiled. "You want to fuck her, and you think you'll be able to with the fiancé out of the way.

I chuckled. "I owe you, Carla. Tell me how you pulled it off."

"It wasn't hard. A few pills in his wine, an ounce of coke in gram baggies and a 911 call. When the fucker came to, he was in custody. The judge denied bail. He's considered a flight risk, but the dumb fuck doesn't have any money. Most of his practice is devoted to charity work."

TWENTY EIGHT

I waited a few days then I showed up at Sarah's office. She was sitting at her computer staring at a blank screen. I knocked. She looked up. Her face drawn. After a moment, she nodded. She was wearing a dark blue dress suit.

"I'm not doing any critiquing today, James."

I waved my hand side to side. "No, I just...I heard about your fiancé. I just wanted to tell you if there's anything I can do to help let me know."

She nodded, tightening her lips. "I really appreciate that, James, but there's nothing anyone can do, I'm afraid. I just got back from the court house. We can't even make bail."

"Yeah, I heard. That's heavy."

"Why on earth not?" She verged on teary-eyed.

I shook my head.

"He could be in jail for months awaiting trial. They have a huge backlog. He can't even afford a lawyer."

"That's tough," I said, trying to sound sympathetic while I fantasized whipping her naked body with a cat o'nine tails.

"I don't even have my car. He was using it. They impounded it when they found drugs in it."

"Damn. Well, I don't want to ring any alarm bells, but do they know it's your car?"

"No, at least I don't think so, but it doesn't matter who's car it is. It had drugs and a weapon in it...and...and it's all so crazy, so it would have been impounded anyway."

"Yeah, but that's not what I meant. When they find out it's your car they might arrest you."

"What?"

"Yeah. Drugs. Your car. And they might find out at any time."

"But that's...what can I do?"

I looked thoughtful for a moment. "I know a lawyer who can tell us what you need to do. I'll go get my car and come back and pick you up. Where do you live?"

"1467 Osborn Lane, Apt. 2. Why?"

"The police will go there as soon as they find out the car's yours. You'll have to stay somewhere else." I was thinking on my feet. I had to know her address. The police wouldn't be coming for her, but I wanted to make her think they were.

On the way to my car, I called the police and told them a woman was being raped at 1467 Osborn Lane.

By the time I drove Sarah to her apt. two police cruisers, with lights flashing, were parked out front questioning people.

"Well," I said, pulling to the curb, "it seems they found out it's your car all right." I shook my head in mock exasperation. Like I gave a fuck. Ha.

The look on Sarah's face was one of complete devastation. The look, I suspect, one would get when they realize that the reality they thought was so firmly fixed had vanished leaving only an abyss.

"This can't be happening?" she uttered dazedly. Her hand gripped her purse leaving the knuckles deadly white.

"Unfortunately it is. You can stay at my place while I see the lawyer. You'll be safe there."

She nodded numbly.

I had no intention of going to a lawyer. After I dropped Sarah off at my place, I went to see Carla.

She was naked getting a massage by a muscular black man on the balcony. I poured myself a whiskey and waited until he left and she came in, still naked, and stretched out on the silver sofa.

I raised my glass in a salute and sat down in an armchair. "I have to give it to you, Carla" I said, perkily.

She gave me a sly smile. "T'weren't nothing to it, pard."

"But what puzzles me is why no bail for an ounce of coke?"

She smiled deliciously, like a cat that had just swallowed a canary. "Well, I didn't tell you quite everything, James. I arranged to have one of Victor's operatives place a scope rifle in the trunk of his car...along with a detailed itinerary of the president's next campaign route."

I chuckled. "You evil bitch, and it is actually Sarah's car. They'll probably disappear both of them down the rabbit hole since the NDAA's been signed into law."

"That just goes to disprove the old adage, you can have your pussy and eat it too. When you get tired of her, turn her in." Carla had a dreamy look on her face. "I wouldn't want to be an attractive woman renditioned to one of the Stans or Egypt. The things they do to women there, yum, yummy, yum."

"Yes, thank god all governments are corrupt as hell or else people like you and I couldn't exist."

"Only the innocent need worry."

TWENTY NINE

When I got back to the apartment Sarah was sitting on the edge of the bed crying. I sat down next to her and put my arm around her. The smell of her perfume was heady. I could feel my dick stir.

"Don't cry, Sarah," I said, then pulled out one of those old asinine adages. "It's always darkest before the dawn."

"And a candle always burns brightest before it goes out," she said between sniffles taking a tissue from her purse.

Fuck you, bitch. "There, there," I said, squeezing her so that her breast pressed against me.

Through our clothes I could feel the heat of her body.

"Did you see the lawyer?" Her hazel eyes were desperately hopeful.

"Yes." I gave her a disgruntled look. "But I'm afraid the doctor is being held as a terrorist."

"But...what? That's crazy. Martin's not a terrorist."

"Ah, of course not..." I hesitated, as if trying to be tactful. "But he did have a sniper's rifle in the trunk of your car and a map of the president's campaign route. It looks bad."

There was a fumbling attempt for some shred of sanity suffusing her face.

"But Martin's apolitical. He's not interested in things like that."

"Perhaps you didn't know him as well as you think."

She got hot at that. "I know he's a good man. My god, he's turned down a lucrative career to help the poor--" She broke down in tears. Her whole body shook.

"Perhaps he saw so much injustice in world that he snapped. It can happen to the best of men. Especially good men, sensitive men." I patted her shoulder and hugged her closer. "But there's something more important for you to realize."

"What's that?" she asked, her eyes bright with tears.

"The car can be traced to you..." I left it hanging.

A question formed on her pretty face.

I patted her thigh, softly. "The police, the FBI, will be searching for you as an accomplice. Your photo will be on TV, in the papers, everywhere." This time I was telling the truth.

"Oh, my god. What am I going to do?"

"Leave it to me. But, first, we've got to change your appearance. They'll be looking for a woman with reddish-brown hair and brown eyes. We'll make you a blonde and get some blue contact lens.

THIRTY

I had to have some pussy. I could have raped her. There was nothing to prevent me, but I wanted her to want it. It would be more exciting that way. To totally degrade her. To make her crawl on her knees for it. To beg. But in the meantime I had to have some pussy. I had a tumescence that wouldn't quit.

Three days had passed. She was asleep on the bed wrapped in my red bath robe fresh from the shower. Alice, who was a beautician, had dyed her hair. And the contact lens were in a box on the nightstand for when she would have to go outside.

I lit a cigarette and stared out the front window. Roy was getting in the brown van. It was Sunday so I knew he wasn't going to work. I went across the landing and knocked. There was no answer. I tried the handle. The door opened. I walked into the living room that was the mirror image of mine. A shower was running. I heard splashes.

There was a shocked look on Kathy's face as I pulled the curtain aside.

"James, how...are you crazy?" Her face was anxious. "Roy will be back in a minute. He just left to get some cigarettes. You've got to leave." Her dark hair was plastered to the sides of her face. Beads of soapy water sluiced down her body as the rush of the shower pelted her.

I took my t-shirt and trunks off. She was scared, but there was a hot look of excitement in her eyes as she stared at my cock. She cowered against the wall as I stepped into the stall. I gripped her thighs and lifted her up. She whimpered softly as I entered her. I forced my tongue into her mouth. Soon she was making throaty sounds and stopped pushing the palms of her hands against my chest and eagerly wrapped her arms around my neck gasping and sighing wildly.

I lifted her up then brought her down repeatedly on my thick, straining erection, her warm moist tightness driving me wild. I engulfed her tits sucking on the nipples making her groan between ecstasy and pain. She kissed my face and neck with total abandonment, and when the sounds of Roy's returning footsteps could be heard she became even more delirious, unable to stem the raw passions controlling her.

She came with violent shudders, her hands squeezing my shoulders. As she slid off my cock her legs gave out from under her and she collapsed to the floor. After a minute or so, I got her up and told her what to say. She wrapped herself in a towel and went out of the bathroom. I heard her tell Roy to go back to the store.

"Here, you can smoke mine," Roy said.

"But you know I don't like those menthols, honey."