B O R I S

I. Olives

She sounded like a banshee.

She didn't sound this bad forty-three minutes ago.

When I made her climax.

What's her name? Gina? Gianna? Giselle?

What the hell ever. She's more of a was anyways.

Well.. almost.

"Shut up." I took my cigarette from my mouth and placed the lit side on the absolute tip of her tongue. Her screams got louder. "You'll swallow next time yeah?" She screamed even more once I yelled into her ear. "Cagna."

I don't hate red heads. Actually, they're number three on my favorites list. But this one annoyed the hell out of me. Didn't know how to quit talking. I hated that.

"You know," I chuckled. "I'm not even so mad at you for this. Hell, I would be yelling too if my hands were nailed to this splintered chair here. I really would. But I have a quote for this moment. Obviously you've never heard it. Silence is gold!" I pulled a line of duct tape from its roll loudly. "But duct tape is silver." Keeping the cigarette on her pretty tongue, I closed it, and taped it shut.

Now she wasn't making my fucking ears bleed.

The smoke in the room seemed to dance under the ceiling lights of my basement. The room smelt burnt but yet like strawberries. Burnt thanks to cigarettes. Strawberries thanks to Miss Carrot Top. I didn't like that.

Candles.

Candles helped me to focus. Candles didn't force me to use the ceiling lights.

I lit five of them in a circle around the red headed girl. Her eyes widened
as her screams and cries and muffled volumes rocketed. I didn't even bother to yell as I was still coming up with ideas. Instead, I turned on my classical Spotify playlist. How pleasant.

The violins filled the room and bounced off the walls. Standing still in front of her, I let my thinking process take over my head.

Again, I didn't remember the bitch's name, it was the least of my worries, but I knew who she was.

Receptionist for a electrical company since 2012, frequent costumer of the Mercury lounge, no biological children, third marriage, forty-two year old wealthy husband, past husbands are deceased. I couldn't be the be the only one to see what's going on there.

Now, I'm not the type to kill the guilty but someone needed to be punished for crimes like these. How the hell are these black widows not caught? They go around marrying rich men then kill them. Then it's on to the next one! Call me a hypocrite, but that's just wrong! I could be next and not even know it.

I knew one person wouldn't do such crafts to me.

Ohh she.

Oly, as I liked to call her. Olyvette was her name. I loved it. It reminded of the oil of olives that I would drip on my finger and run against her full, soft lips.  As it dripped, I'd catch it and graze my lips against hers.

She haunted my dreams and my imagination. Her almond snapped brown eyes watched my imagination and winced at all the fucked up things that ran a marathon through my brain.

I wanted her so bad. She could never carry the luggage that I carried on my belt loop every day of my life. Such an innocent soul. I only sat with her for an hour and even then I knew she deserved the moon and the stars and all the poetry that came with it.

- - - - - - - - -

"Oh, well, Boris. I can say thank you for the band. Thank you for choosing us to play for your charity event, really." Olyvette cleared her throat. "It was most expensive gig that we've had."

I nodded, finishing a sip from my glass. "No need to thank me. You are very talented. Only an idiot would choose anyone else over you."

She blushed. Her dimples indented her cheeks. I wanted to fill them with the substance that was in my glass and sip it like a child drinking the milk from their cereal bowl. She was just that gorgeous.

"With that being said, I'm not the only one that enjoyed your gifts. I got so many compliments on my musical decision that I think it would be the most perfect idea to hire you permanently," I proposed. "There's always a company event going on, whether I'm there or not, once or twice a month. Same pay as before, maybe extra if the crowd is big." I shrugged, smiling into her eyes. "What do you say?"

She considered it, looking down into her glass. "It sounds amazing, Mr. Es- Boris. But I have to discuss this with the band and Nate and-"

"Of course, No worries." I nodded in understanding, watching her lips and catching her eyes once again. "You take all the time you need, Oly. May I call you Oly?"

"I usually go by Vette, but Oly is fine," she giggled, taking her last sip. She glanced at her watch, standing back on her heels. "Thank you so much for the offer, but I have to go. Nate should be getting off of his plane now. I have to go and pick him up. I will keep in touch."

Damn him. Ruining my time with such a beautiful brown woman. If he keeps getting in my way, he'll become one of my "associates." He'll have to go. I don't like when people get in my way. They get in my way, they disappear. How do you think I got to where I am now?

- - - - - -

The idea popped up above my head. Ginger or Giovanna was going to become my test dummy.

"Gigi, We're going to play a little improv," I slowly inched towards her. "You will be playing the roll of a man called Nate and I will be playing myself. You're ugly, stupid, and you don't deserve my Vette. And.. action."

******************

Here I go again starting a new book with a new crazy ass fine ass character. Are you tired of me yet 😩

Give feedback! Share the story!! Vote!!

Go read my other book But Only In Red Ink! I'm getting pretty close to ending it!

Love y'all!!

~Shann