Beyond her door lay all the comfort a prized suite could hold. When she entered, it offered safety from fear. She locked the door behind her, then reached blindly for the switch next to it. A hand like a vice gripped her wrist and twisted her arm, then pushed her backward so fast her scream … Continue reading Beck & Call 2
“Miss Donah?” The receptionist’s hesitant voice stopped her in the middle of the lobby. “Miss Donah.” Toni Donah turned to the caller. “Yes?” “What is it?” Saint asked on her behalf. A camera kitbag hung from his left shoulder, balancing his stance. Only inches taller Toni, he was thicker than he was solid, needing it … Continue reading Beck & Call 1
“So, what did they say?” Jemima asked. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” Hands linked, we walked though the secretariat lobby. “My licence is intact. Prisca convinced them it wasn’t their business whether I took advantage of her or not, so long as she didn’t report it.” “How is that supposed to be convincing?” she asked doubtfully. “The conviction … Continue reading Sin 25
Tuesday went like a breeze, a stinking breeze. I didn’t want it to end, because I wanted to keep Wednesday at bay as long as possible. Talk about stilling time. I was again a toddler balking at waking up on the first day of school. I’d grown up independent, which served me well in the … Continue reading Sin 24
When the faculty director called you into his office, it wasn’t to chum up. Professor Tayo Banks never called you into his office unless something was amiss. You didn’t have to tremble with fear; you just needed to be concerned and on the lookout. As I entered his office, I tried not to appear … Continue reading Sin 23
The first fifteen minutes, I recounted the incident and events surrounding it, glossing over parts I didn’t think mattered and keeping away parts that breached confidentiality. He would need as much information as was possible if he was going to defend me. Soon more details were bound to emerge. Litigation always had ways of unearthing … Continue reading Sin 22
The most depressing weekend ended and the crappiest week began with an unexpected call on the dot of eight. I was walking into my office on Monday morning when the phone buzzed. It was Prisca Braithwaite. “Good morning, sir.” “Yes?” Indignation flooded me. “I want to apologise, Doctor Mala, about Friday night. I’m truly, … Continue reading Sin 21
I don’t know how I managed to keep sane in the few minutes it took to drive to Prisca’s apartment and watch her get out. She didn’t utter a word. I didn’t even breathe or look in her direction. I had never known that lethal mix of anger and frustration before. The rain let up … Continue reading Sin 20
She was at the edge of the lake, naked. Spurred on by my approach, she beckoned me with a finger, a drenched siren luring a hapless sailor to his destruction. Reaching her, I grabbed her by the hair. “You asked for trouble and now you are going to get it.” Her response was simple. “Give … Continue reading Sin 19
Thirty seconds. I waited, counting the slow tick of the black second hand of a clock on the wall across from the room. It was slow and tortuous. I waited another thirty seconds. Desire spiked through me like a hot spear. I heard blood rushing in my ears. My heartbeat was out of control. When … Continue reading Sin 18
Talk of the devil, and Prisca appeared before my eyes! It had been only minutes since she called, but I had been too distracted—no, disconcerted was more to the point—to notice the passage of time. My butt was still firmly planted in my seat at LuckPot, and she was walking in like the Jezebel who … Continue reading Sin 17
The zing was never meant to last, and it didn’t. It peaked at the start of the following week and diminished as the week wore on. As weekend drew in, it was ready to be buried. The truth was simple and shameful. I missed the Poor Little Bitch, I coveted the vivacity with which she … Continue reading Sin 16
In spite of my turmoil, the week promised to be nice. The adjective was lame, but it would do. I tamped down my frustration, enough to communicate without screaming whenever Prisca visited. As the week ran out, so did her desire and my frustrated longing. Cecilia Braithwaite dropped in toward the weekend to hear good … Continue reading Sin 15
Holy shit! Fine language. You’ve never done this before? Uh-uh. Your lucky day. How does it feel? Wet. Warm. Hot. Keep it up for me! Not going anywhere! Holy shit! Painful? How can you talk with your mouth full? You want me to stop? No! No! No! Keep it up! Yes, keep it up! No, … Continue reading Sin 14
That declaration spelled long days of gloom, effectively driving a wedge between Jemima and I. She was taciturn after the encounter at Lakeside, quickly getting out of the car the moment I drove up to the garage and walking away without a word. On the weekend, she stayed over. Her body language clearly screamed that … Continue reading Sin 13