Ch. 13: Jack's Submission
August 22 | Noon
Mal crooked a finger for me to come with her to her swanky whip. "You requested a car, right? I'm here to get you some wheels."
"You've gotta be kidding me," I choked out.
An unexpected phone call, a voluptuous woman on my doorstep, now this? I wondered not for the first time since meeting her whether I was awake, dreaming, or suffering a break with sanity. Madness seemed plausible.
"You're not joking?" I wheezed.
Mal's secretive grin discouraged interrogation. As I hopped in the passenger seat, she turned up the stereo, and I kicked back. The drive sped by. I sang along to country songs while she flirted with her eyes. I couldn't see the scenery. I was captivated by her. In no time, we arrived at a nondescript building in an unfamiliar zone of the city.
I exited her ride, perplexed. "What is this place?"
It wasn't the used car lot I expected. There were only two or three personal vehicles parked outside. We approached black glass doors embossed with "VIP Transportations, Inc." in white lettering. I had never heard of the place, but when we entered the glossy showroom floor, I was blown away.
Flashy sports cars were positioned around an open warehouse with strategic lighting showing off fancy customizations. There was a seating area where men in casual attire enjoyed drinks and cigars. They glanced up, laughter dying away. A whistle of appreciation hounded Mal to the service desk. The corners of her sultry lips curled.
"Pick up for Jack Slobodnik," she announced.
As the concierge guy, or whoever he was, bobbed his head and stepped away to do her bidding, I leaned in. "I feel like I'm under-dressed. Why didn't you tell me to wear something new?"
She cupped my elbow and turned her cheek to mine. "The first thing you need to understand about your role as Alpha is that you are never under-dressed. You are never late. You need never apologize. You are the locus of control, and the world bends to you. You see those guys over there?"
She pointed with her eyes, and I gave a discreet nod.
"They're just killing time, soaking in the ambiance of the expensive quality of their surroundings. Sure, they're here to network and pray nobody realizes they're merely faking it until they make it, but not you." She kissed my chin, leaving me dumbfounded. "You've arrived, Mr. Slobodnik. Act like it."
I smiled and wiped my mouth to put a damper on the kiddish excitement coursing through me. The staff member for the car service had returned and was waiting patiently for us to finish our private conversation. I inclined my head to let him know we were ready.
"Right this way, Mr. Slobodnik. We put you in the transport bay for ease of exit. Take a look and let us know if everything is to your liking. Any problems, we'll make sure to take care of things before you leave," he replied.
I locked eyes with Mal, who indicated for me to lead. I didn't know what to do with her, didn't know what to do without her. I couldn't fathom moving on after this gig was done, watching her sashay from my life. Trailing the salesman, the three of us traversed the retail floor to a short hallway with wide double doors. As we entered the bay, I stopped dead in my tracks.
"Oh my God," I gasped.
"I hope you like it," said my escort.
"Mal Ashivant, you've got to be shitting me!" I rushed deeper into the room.
The beaming salesman handed me a keyfob. "Take your time and check out everything. If you have questions, use this intercom by the doors, and someone will be right with you." Without further ado, he left us.
I circled the jaw-dropping Hennessey Venom GT convertible. There was a push-to-start function on the fob. I pressed the button, and it roared to life. Lifting the hood of the car, my eyebrows furrowed and my mouth formed a soundless "Ooh!" The engine hummed like a hive, apropos, given the wet honey paint job. I pivoted to Mal. She spread her hands with a gracious head tilt.
"Tell me you like it," she said.
"Like it? Are you–?" My grimace of ecstasy morphed to stunned laughter. "Babe, this thing has almost two-thousand horses, five thousand RPMs, with an F5 carbon fiber chassis!"
Giggling, she nodded with my every word, saying, "It all sounds like jibberish to me, but the car looked pretty on the internet. So, I take it I chose well?"
I had no words. I circled the car again, adrenaline pumping. Whether from anticipation or as a side effect of the blackmarket gene tampering, I didn't know. I stroked the hills and vales of the body. The low-rider hugged the ground with dips and divots on the sides and front. With the top down, the red premium leather was as sumptuous as the soft ripeness of a sweet tropical fruit, and the color-contrast with the amber fiberglass stole my breath.
It was perfect, and it was mine.
Gingerly opening the door, I sat in the driver's seat. Mal skipped around to the passenger side and folded her delectable frame into the vehicle. Her eyes, usually frankly intense, danced with a playfulness I adored. I couldn't check out the internal display of the car for staring at her exquisite features. I almost wished the center console wasn't between us.
"What is this? What are you?" I asked in hushed awe. "How do you keep making my craziest dreams come true?"
She bit her lip as she rolled her shoulders forward in a shrug that gave nothing away. Part of me recognized she was only doing her job. I struggled to keep in mind her actions weren't personal. Every trip, every purchase, every favor was coming from my fraudulent inheritance, but I didn't want to think about the man I was robbing. Zyr Ravani hadn't crossed my mind in weeks.
Yet, when the name resurfaced, it took some of the wind out of me. I killed the engine and stared at the gear shift. "If I'm reading you wrong, let me know," I said.
Mal pulled a face. "I'm an open book."
"In a language I don't speak." I met her gaze.
"Touché." Her breasts heaved, and she loosened the silk scarf at her neck. "You said something about a woman with my power. What did you mean by that? What do you think I am, Jack?"
Smirking, I pounded the steering wheel. "Torture."
"Close." She laughed.
"Heaven?" My vision speared the V where her thighs met. She shifted as if she could feel my eyes, but it was a delicious little wiggle that invited inspection. I eased forward and back in the bucket seat with a tightness in my groin.
"Getting colder," she said.
I busied my hands with the console to combat the urge to drag her into my lap. It was the hitch in her breathing, the subtle lean toward me, the perch of her tongue against the anterior of her teeth. I murmured, "Purgatory. You've got me here, craving what I think I can't have, with a glimmer of hope that maybe I can. Except, you look like you'd take me through hell."
"Hotter." She raised an eyebrow as she primly clasped her hands on her knee.
"You think that scares me?" I barked a laugh. Her eyes stared off to the side as she considered my response. Gnawing my lip, I studied her.
"Get out of the car," she ordered suddenly. I obeyed without hesitation. She left the convertible and marched to my side. "Sit."
"On the floor?" I asked in surprise.
"Now, I thought we had an understanding..." Her hand shot to my throat with the precision of a heat-seeking missile. At the pressure she applied, my eyes widened in dazed bliss. "When I tell you to do something, questioning me is a waste of time. Do I look like I like wasting time?"
I slumped to the cold concrete, aroused by the rapid change in her demeanor. Her stiletto speared the ground between my legs as she stood over me. "No, ma'am," I managed.
"You said I'd probably take you through hell, but you don't know hell, sweetheart."
She put her heel to my chest for traction to choke me harder. There was no gentleness. No smiles. The woman was bizarrely strong. Her grip cut off circulation, firing shooting stars behind my eyelids, but my dick went rigid as titanium.
"Hell is a prison of the mind, and there's no way out," she whispered. "Around you, the world parties on. Nobody knows you're trapped. Nobody cares as long as you give them what they want. Is this what you want, Jack?"
She kicked off her shoe and stroked her foot from my torso to my crotch. As she rubbed the stiff print of my cock, I shuddered, nodding. Anticipation wet my boxers. The blood pounded in my head. I went partially deaf and started to lose consciousness.
At the first sign of this, Mal ripped off her scarf and wrapped it once around the side mirror, once around my neck, loosely. I could breathe again.
"Permission to touch you," I asked hoarsely.
Mal bowed her head to mine. "You're playing with fire... Go right ahead."
She straightened to her full height, and I took her foot. I brought her toes to my mouth. Her explicit moan at the silken glide of my tongue made my hips jerk forward. I wanted to be inside of her. I wanted to be buried to the hilt. My name spilled from her lips like liquid fire.
"Tell me what you want, love. Command me," I moaned.
"Be careful what you–" Her voice broke.
"–Wish for? I told you I'm not scared. I know you're not scared. So, tell me what you wish."
With my lips closing around her toes, I felt her shudder. Her pelvis inched toward my hungry mouth. I chased it, but she flinched away, palm against my forehead. She did, however, let me slide my fingers up her inner thigh. For a moment, the flames felt real. I was incinerated by her. She cupped a hand over mine against her mons.
When I touched her throbbing clit through her clothes, she dropped her foot, no longer resisting. Grinding slowly against my hand and upturned face, she whimpered, "I wish..."
"Yes?" I groaned into the fragrant hollow, unconcerned with the evidence my mouth would leave on the sheer fabric. She raked her nails down the side of my new car. However, her phone jangled, and as quickly as she had trapped me, she released me.
"Mal Ashivant, speaking." She yanked her scarf from my neck. I coughed as I fell forward. She brusquely walked away to take the call. "Yes, I'm on it."
Back to business as usual. She signaled she had to jet. I stared after her longingly. I had hoped to take her on a drive, chill a while.I muzzled my libido and watched her strut out the double doors. There was nothing for me to do but get home. I eyed the time. At least, Sunny will be off soon. Was it wrong to think like that?
***
I walked into the studio apartment where Mom was lounging, watching her favorite TV show and held up the keyfob proudly.
"What's that?" She raised on her elbow.
"I got a new car. Come check it out."
"What? How can you afford a car?" Mom trailed me to the parking lot. She took one look at the high-performance sportscar, and her face fell.
I suppressed a sigh. "I know what you're thinking, but we need this. You can stop taking the bus to work, and Dad can stop fussing with the truck. We have wheels again! C'mon, let's celebrate."
She shook her head in disapproval. "We're not accepting this. We don't want ill-gotten gains. Don't tell me you're letting a fascination with material things make you lose sight of setting down roots the proper way. Did you check on that job your father told you about?"
"Ma–"
"Jack, you have such a tendency to go from one extreme to the next," she cut me off. I stormed into the apartment to escape her tirade, but she followed me to the bathroom. "You know, fast money burns just as quickly as it comes. Slow and steady never hurt anybody. Are you selling drugs?"
"What? No!" I exclaimed, miffed by her reaction. Didn't she realize I was doing this for them? My life was on the line for them. I wanted to tell her so badly what I was risking to drag us from poverrty.
"You expect me to believe you came by a car like that honestly? God forbid I get another knock on my door, and it's the police."
"There we go." I threw up my hands in frustration. Mom padded from the bathroom threshold, and I stormed after her. "You think I'm the bad guy. Wrong! Zyr Ravani is. Mr. Protect-and-Serve screwed up my life, and I'm supposed to be okay with it."
All the way back to my place, pushing the high-performance GT to the max, it hadn't been Sunny or Mal on my mind. I had been striving to outrace guilty thoughts of stealing from Ravani, and Mom was making it worse. The detective had a career, a stable home, his livelihood. It wasn't like I was leaving him penniless. My resolve to stick with Mr. Cyprian's plan intensified.
"Mom, you don't have to speculate about what I'm doing. Just be happy for me. I deserve everything that is coming to me," I stated.
"Son...you are asking me to celebrate your self-destruction. I'm sorry, but I can't do that."
I stared at her in disbelief. The crushing weight of living up to my parents' expectations could do me in quicker than the whole neighborhood turning their backs on me. A desperate need for Mom to see me for who I was, see how hard I was trying, overwhelmed me. It was no use. Before I had gone to prison, they had pinned their hopes and dreams on me. Why imagine falling from grace would lighten the load?
"Alright, Ma. Okay." I pocketed my keyfob and left the apartment.
"I think you should ask Sunny to help you get on with him at AngelGuard," she called from the door.
Slamming to a halt in the parking lot, I balled my fists. The goddamn side effects–anger, aggression, adrenaline surges–amplified. I suddenly feared what I would do if she kept goading me. Mustering self-control, I faced her stiffly and didn't say a word.
Mom narrowed her eyes as if she didn't recognize who I was becoming. I had the urge to run. I wanted to get away from myself before I said or did something I couldn't take back. Mom retreated into the studio with a sadness I couldn't alleviate. I stood facing the unit with a restless tapping of my fingers against my thigh, wondering if I should placate her by asking Sunny about a job.
As I turned toward his place, however, I spotted a security guard shooing Kato away from the complex, and I jogged toward them. "Hey, hey! The kid's with me. Sorry I'm late, Kato."
Appreciation flooded the hoodied teenager's face as the skeptical guard sized me up. "No hanging out in the parking lot. If I catch you again, I'll call the cops," he said.
"Won't happen again."
The guard left, and I exhaled. Kato looked me up and down, the smile receding. "You good?"
"Nope." I chuckled tightly. "What about you? Need a place to stay the night? I came into some money."
Kato mumbled their cash-tag with an air of I'll believe it when I see it. I fumbled out my phone to check the bank account Mal had set up for me. My eyes widened at the balance, another generous gift.
"How's a week sound?" I used my forearm to wipe sweat from my brow.
"You must've hit the jackpot."
"I guess you can say I've been lucky." Using the online widget to pay for an extended-stay hotel room, my hands started to shake. I handed Kato the phone to set up a rideshare. I didn't trust myself to drive.
"So, what's going on with you?" The kid studied me with concern.
It dawned on me how bad I looked. Probably as bad as I felt. "It's a, uh, medical condition. The stress of my new job is probably flaring me up."
"Ah, autoimmune disease? Thought you were tweaking, man." Kato chuckled.
"I, um, got a new car. Pick you up for Taekwondo class?" I changed the subject.
"Wait, I'm in? I don't need a permission slip? Hell, yeah, you can pick me up."
I pushed for another concession. "After that, maybe we can talk about connecting you with some programs to get you on your feet."
"Should've known there were strings attached." Kato groaned but smiled.
"No strings. Friendly conversation only. I want to see you living your best life."
Kato shrugged. We spent the rest of the wait for their ride in silence. I didn't dare speak much more. The kid had no idea how I was fighting to seem normal as the effects of the experimental treatment wreaked havoc with my nervous system. I felt untamed. I worried. I saw the parallels between me and Kato. We both needed help reclaiming our lives, but I had traded my health for questionable handouts and, as my mom called it, fast money.
There was a serious chance I wouldn't even live to see it.