Wilmington, North Carolina
12:15pm
Mindful of both their triggers and what can possibly go wrong if not carefully considered, Lauren doesn't enter the hotel room without quietly dropping all shopping bags inside first before she slowly clicks the door shut. She remembers the frenzied way Candy would leap out of bed with the sharpest gasp, ready to fight for her life, and takes forever to settle her nerves once she understands that she has nothing to worry about because that loud slam of a door closing isn't a gun firing or an intruder breaking in. The gang leader smiles at the peaceful sight of her girlfriend still asleep, lying on her stomach with a pillow trapped between her arms, breathing with her mouth open and strands of her tangled hair draped over her face. All Candy does lately is sleep—more than anything else she does. Sleep is her priority.
Lauren creeps around the hotel room like a cat, sifting through the bags of food first to set on the coffee table by the bed so that Candy already has her cravings within reach the second she awakes. The next thing are the two boxes of brand new sneakers and shoes she spontaneously picked up when passing them by on display in a local shop, attracted to the purple hue of the elegantly crafted heels and the silver metallic sneakers laced with angel wings on the sides, known as the latest JS Wings dropped by Adidas. She was only supposed to pick up a few things they needed for the long car rides to New York, but ended up becoming dazzled and all too eager to follow through with her window shopping just to please Candy. If there is one thing Lauren can go crazy doing if no one was around to stop her, it is burning holes in her pockets from spending on gifts for her girl and herself.
She did experience a brief moment of having the urge to get some things for the baby they had on the way, but ultimately decided that's a shitty idea and a sure way to amp up her depression since she still believes that Candy giving birth is merely a fantasy. She's not so foolish to get her hopes up like that again despite being elated that they're expecting.
As careful as Lauren is, the sound of the plastic container snapping open gets to Candy, and the cartel boss is stirring in bed now, groaning and stretching with her eyes closed.
"Lauren?" she whispers, darting around.
"I'm here, mami," Lauren murmurs, setting up the plastic forks and knives and platters of chicken and syrup-drenched waffles with a side of onion rings. She meets Candy's sleepy gaze and crosses over to her. Candy reaches up to grab her by the fabric of her grey zip-up sweater, and she pulls her down for a quick kiss. "How ya feeling?"
"Hmmm..." Candy moans, stretching. She kisses Lauren again. "Well rested."
"You should be. You were out for ten hours."
"Oh my God...really? I'm sorry."
Lauren chuckles. "You need your rest, baby. Don't be sorry," she pecks her lips again and swoons when Candy does that soft, sweet, tired little moan she always does after waking up. "I got you some stuff."
"Oh yeah?"
"Your cravings from yesterday. Some fresh ass kicks. A fur coat for when we're in New York. Went through the checklist you gave me for our trip. Some new earrings since you lost your last pair. A pillow for the car rides."
"Come here, baby," Candy joyfully grins and cups Lauren's face in her warm hands, kissing her deeply, pouring all of her gratitude into it. She inhales her scent and drops her lips, biting her own. "Damnnn. You smell good. What is that?"
"Soap and lotion," Lauren pulls back when she remembers her hair is wet. "Sorry. I also washed my hair before stepping out."
"Did you spray new cologne?"
"Yeah, just bought it. Nautica Voyage. I was hoping you'd like it. The lady at the shop said it compliments my natural scent and is the perfect extension of me, or some shit like that," Lauren kicks off her Timbs and then unzips her sweater, adapting to the heated room with the aid of her army green muscle tee.
Candy's eyebrows fly up and her eyes widen. She sits up and brushes her fingers through her hair, undoing the mess of it. "Ohhhh, so you got it because she liked the way it smelled on you."
"Chill, I told her I have a wife," Lauren removes her elekes from around her neck and tucks them into its rightful pouch, eager to smoke a blunt as a replacement for the beer she's craving.
"You did?" Candy purs, visibly shocked. It gets to her head. "I'm your wife now?"
Lauren simply nods as she rips open the packet for the tobacco leaf she'd use to put her weed in. "Eat your food before it gets cold."
"I will. But right now all I can think about is the fact that you called me your wife."
"Start thinking about what you wanna do in this city before we gotta bounce. There's a brochure right there."
Candy hugs Lauren from behind, nesting her chin on her shoulder, lingering on cloud nine. She shuts her eyes with a growing smile she can't contain. "I love you."
"I love you more."
"Say it to my face."
"I love you mo—"
"No. Not that," Candy tells her, amused by Lauren pretending to be oblivious. "Call me your wife."
Lauren tortures Candy with the anticipation. She quirks her jaw and lightly drags a knuckle down the pinkish hue of Candy's cheek, and then leans in with the words rolling off her tongue like a beautiful symphony eligible to be composed for years and years to come, "My wife. Mi esposa. Mi mujer," she whispers and knocks her forehead into Candy's, closing her eyes to fully bask in her presence and the truth in those titles.
"Tuya," Candy promises before they're kissing again, losing themselves in each other's lips. (Yours.)
Minutes later, they're eating together—Candy doing most of the eating and Lauren taking nibbles here and there since she isn't that hungry. Lauren smokes out the window and anxiously paces the suite, unlearning her routine of responding to her pager that would normally beep, and expecting phone calls of trouble or pleasant updates from the streets. Candy has an easier time relaxing and doing whatever she pleases; that's what she gets for being so sure of herself and the power she wields despite being outside of Miami with no army. She trusts Lola and Wandel to run her operations smoothly, and Lauren trusts Sasha—but then again only one of them was recently caught off guard by a surprise attack by an unknown aggressor, and nearly lost their life for it.
Candy proposes they can go try that carriage ride through town and learn about the history, and Lauren only agrees not because she's particularly interested—she couldn't give a rat's ass about the history of Wilmington—but because it'd make Candy happy and provide the distraction she needs to keep herself sane.
She's also thinking heavily about Gregorio and what could possibly be going on with him since there is still radio silence on his end. She thought an escape from Miami would be easier on her anxiety and do her mental health some good, but no matter what she does or where she goes and how far, she still can't escape the jaws of that city, gnawing away at her sanity with its sharp teeth that sank its way under her skin years ago.
"What's got you so worked up over there?" asks Candy, admiring herself wearing the full-length silver fox fur coat in the mirror, twisting to check out every angle. She can sense Lauren's uneasiness without looking at her.
Lauren flicks the second blunt she'd just burned through out the window, and then closes it with a long sigh. "That motherfucker that attacked me. I know you already dealt with him...I just can't shake how it all went down. You still don't know who he was or why he did all that. And because he's dead, I will never know until the next attack."
"No one's touching you," Candy says factually.
"You don't know that."
"I do if I'm the one protecting you."
"How can you protect me from the unexpected—the unknown?"
"Because of who the fuck I am. After the lovely little gifts I sent out, I doubt anyone won't think twice about trying you or me. And if they were stupid enough to make a move anyway, then I'm ready for it. Tranquila, mi amor," Candy joins Lauren at the window she peers out of, taking her away from the people she has under surveillance. "No one's going to touch you. The only two people who know where we are are Jasmine and Wandel—that's it." (Relax, my love.)
"You promise?" Lauren pleads with a wounded expression.
"Te lo prometo, papi, no te preocupes," Candy's confident smile is all the reassurance that counts for now. She holds out her hand for Lauren to take. "Come. Let's go out now while the sun's still shining." (I promise you, papi, don't worry.)
-
Cutler Bay - Miami-Dade
"Carajoooo. Qué calor!" Orion complains, tugging at his neck tie before ultimately loosening it altogether so that he may unbutton his fancy pressed brown shirt. He squints and wipes the sticky sweat on his forehead, regretting the rookie move of not picking a spot in the shade to park in. But the sweltering Miami heat is the least of his worries. (Fuuuuck! It's so hot!)
En route to the trunk of Chuco's Cadillac, he stops midway to light a cigarette, relaxes himself with a drag or two, and then continues trudging through the muddy grass nearby a lake, joining Alejandro and Sinu as they'd exited from their car to see the "gift" he brought them. Orion jams the key in the hole, twists, waits a moment, and then opens it up. Alejandro is vocal about his approval of what he's met with, while Sinu stays quiet and inclines forward to further inspect the tied up woman in the trunk.
"This is her?" Sinu asks, disappointed because she expected more.
"Sì. Pasa algo?" Orion sniffles and aggressively swipes his wrist across his nose. (Yes. Something the matter?)
"She's still breathing. And pretty."
"And?" Alejandro sits his hands on his hips, at his breaking point with his wife's constant bitching and finding the smallest, insignificant shit to be upset about. "That's going to change. You can't be happy we finally have her?"
"She's not prepared to give up everything she knows. She hasn't been tortured or broken down enough to be too tired to fight. And I'm in no mood for how long it's going to take to get information out of her," Sinu turns her back and crosses her arms.
"Siempre la misma mierda contigo. Never fucking satisfied, always so ungrateful. And you wonder where our daughter gets it from," Alejandro grumbles. (Always the same shit with you.)
"We don't need to torture her. I have information. I just use her laptop, I figure it out myself. Or we get somebody smart to do it. But all of what we need is there," Orion minimizes the bitterness circling the air. "No need to be upset."
"So then what do we do with her? Send a message to Vice Angeles?" asks Alejandro, open to suggestions.
Orion clicks his teeth, shutting that one down. They're going to send a message all right—just not in that way. No, this is definitely a matter that deserves to be more personal than not. He approaches Jasmine, pouting sarcastically at the traumatized, shivering girl who is gagged with a blue bandana and restrained with zip ties around her wrists and ankles. Orion caresses her moist, dirt ridden face, and cackles at the fearlessness she tries convincing him of when she glares and kicks at him, jolting forward and yelling through the bandana. He whips out his Blackberry phone and humours himself with a couple of fun selfies he'd eventually show Candy when the day finally comes.
"We're going to deliver her head to my boss—su hija. She has a tracker on Lauren's car. They're in North Carolina now but will be on the move soon. The next hotel, she will have this gift and not know who it is from," Orion takes a final selfie with a peace sign and his lips puckered, because he's an asshole and that's what everyone's doing these days, and then tucks it back into its holder on his belt loop. "Sound good? Yes?"
"Do it now. They'll know she's missing, and not because she's taking the day off," advises Sinu, unwilling to stand her repulsion by Jasmine any longer.
*
Wilmington, North Carolina
6:37pm
After their 30-minute carriage ride through the historic parts of town, grabbing a bite to eat at a trendy restaurant on the Riverwalk, and then walking the length of that breathtaking Riverwalk—alive with parks, boutique shops, galleries and museums, locals out with their families or enjoying their individual time on laptops, fishing, jogging, gobbling down meals bought from any of the various food joints there—Candy and Lauren opted for staying out and basking in the culture of Wilmington with open arms instead of journeying back to their hotel suite to be anti-social. They sat side by side on a bench for a lengthy duration, watching the sun go down, wondering out loud about the lives of the people that lived here and if they were as happy as they seemed. Not a single person there looked miserable, even if they were briskly walking by or bickering on the grass or even sitting alone with no one to talk to. They agreed that this has to be a place to consider raising a family in—if not somewhere to escape to for the kind of tranquility hard to come by in Florida. It's quiet, slow-paced, relaxed, timeless, heavily rooted in the past despite the people choosing to live in the moment, and not without its eclectic charm.
The conversations they had were the kind of normal that made them feel like imposters. The entire evening was engulfed in the normalcy they both longed for every day but never quite had. But instead of embracing it for what it is, they could only concentrate on what it was about to be: the past, and possibly never attained again. They wondered when it'd vanish from them, when the trouble would come into play, what exactly would disrupt their peace. And although neither of them said it, they were both waiting for it—looking for it, even—racing to be right about dealing with problems that never came.
What did come was totally unexpected, and, of course, a tad bit suspicious, but welcomed nonetheless. And it happened while Candy was telling Lauren about Sunday school; how she initially only tolerated it because she knew she'd be getting goldfish crackers out of it; and then answering Lauren's question about her liking Hentai or not since she was a Manga freak back when she could afford the leisure time to get lost in those books at the public library. Her answer was no, by the way, and that she was a freak but not that freaky. Lauren didn't buy it. Anyway, two pairs of couples had approached them from a bar behind the bench, politely asking if they wanted to join them for a game of drunken frisbee—to which Lauren said yes, but Candy respectfully declined on the note that she was pregnant and deathly scared of getting hit in the face by a flying disk.
Alice, the bright and cheery leader of the group, was enamoured with Candy on the spot. She called her "a doll I could go for in a big way" or whatever the hell that meant. Candy thought she was sexually coming onto her—not referring to shopping as a little girl and finding the one Barbie doll at a store she wanted to be best friends with forever. Even if she was coming onto her, she wouldn't mind or be repulsed; that was the culture at An Angel's Vice, and she shared those exact sentiments with some of her best girls working the brothel instead of the strip.
Alice is the wife of Ned, a very tall man with deep-set brown eyes, a hawkish nose, ginger hair (like Alice's), and an outgoing personality—the suburban friendly kind that Lauren isn't used to. Ned has a best friend named Tyler, an obvious mix of a gym rat and a beach boy that most likely had a stable job as a CPA he bitterly settled for. He is a handsome brunette with nails cleaner than his girlfriend, Becky. And Becky is your average blonde who looks like she'd been in all of the high school clubs, volunteers at her community church, drives a Mercedes, pays for all of Tyler's expensive needs, and sits at home eating cheese with a fine bottle of wine from her mother's cellar every late evening.
It was obvious to Candy how miserable Becky was behind her forced laughs whenever Tyler made an immature comment on something love related, and the way she pretended to not notice him quickly scanning the bodies of other women that passed them by, or how he took a stronger inhale of the "fresh air" when one of them was noticeably wearing a perfume he'd fall to his knees for. All Candy thought about when staring at Becky talk was how she could easily recruit her and have her know what it's truly like to be desired and properly courted so much. Candy doesn't have girls like Becky at the brothel—and girls like Becky would do numbers with ALL the men that come by and don't limit themselves to just the "exotics".
After all the yapping and getting to know each other, finding out Candy and Lauren are tourists briefly passing through, and showing themselves to be harmless adults in their mid 20s-early 30s just looking for a great time with new friends, Alice invited them back to her condo/townhouse in Drayton Square for a light dinner, some wine, more conversation, and tabletop games. The group couldn't help their fascination with this sweet, lesbian couple from Miami and the peculiar dynamic they have going for them that isn't at all something they'd see every day—or ever—here in Wilmington, North Carolina. They just had to know more.
Which leads to this current moment, inside Alice's comfortable home with notes of wealth and antique chandelier lights that warm the atmosphere—if not the masonry fireplace calmly burning in the great room/dining room—where they all join together at the dinner table for six by the great window overlooking the pristine front lawn, chatting and laughing their way through a meal of garlic-apple pork roast with cowboy pasta, paired with modest glasses of Sangiovese wine. More normalcy—something to want to get used to—a dream within reach, up for grabs but unrealistic to hold on to.
"Do you have kids?" Candy asks Alice, noticing the stash of small toys underneath one of the sofa chairs facing the fireplace, and the neatly folded pile of (presumably) recently washed baby clothes tucked away on one of the black walnut shelves displaying family trinkets, photographs, and accolades.
"Oh!" Alice abandons her side conversation with Tyler and Lauren faster than the speed of lightning, and she smiles ruefully at Candy. "I did—twins. Tragic story, no need to get into it. But if you're referring to the trail of evidence that children are present in this home, you're looking at my sister's kids' stuff. They come here every day; I look after them while she works. Great kids."
"Are they easy to deal with?"
"Not even the slightest," Ned half-jokes, garnering some laughs. Deep down, it's a cry for help.
"But they're fun! You know? Hard to handle—naturally, children are rebellious—but there's never a dull moment when they're here. And I enjoy looking after them," Alice completes, her chin resting atop her threaded fingers, a dimpled smile permanently on her delicate lips.
"I'm constantly juggling the idea of having kids, but then I remember Tyler saying they're headaches you keep forever," says Becky. "And he's right. That snaps me out of it."
"Eh, I think it's pretty easy when you have a magnificent partner by your side to help raise them," Lauren chimes in, putting down her wine glass. "Hard to fail when the support is too good. You catch each other when one of you is having a hard time, take on the load for yourself on the days you can't share, learn to love the process and the intimate ways you get to know yourself because of them."
Candy turns her head and stares at Lauren with a newfound love and curiosity. She understands that Lauren is more on the rough, street side with a lack of familial structure, and isn't the greatest at intellectual conversations, so this genuinely surprises her. If she didn't know any better, she'd assume Lauren either spent enough time looking after children or already has some of her own for at least six-ten years. Something primal stirs deep within Candy...something intoxicatingly carnal.
"Very introspective. You're preaching to the choir," Alice chirps, doing that unnecessary laughing thing she does at the end of most of her sentences.
"So which one of you wanted the baby?" asks Tyler, taking a scandalous sip of his wine, eyes flickering between Candy and Lauren, fixing more on Lauren.
"Camila," Lauren answers before her girlfriend can assign that desire to the both of them. "She has baby fever like a motherfucker. Right, sweetheart?" Lauren turns to meet her gaze, slowly rubbing her thigh underneath the table.
Candy issues a nervous giggle and lowers her head, hoping the others don't catch on to what Lauren means by that. She sighs and nods, shielding part of her face with her palm as she blushes. "She's right."
"But you're so young! You must be at least twenty-two," Becky says, stabbing her cheesy pasta.
"Twenty-four," Candy impulsively lies.
"Still very young. Why do you have so much baby fever? Out of curiosity, not judgment," Ned holds up his hands, absolving himself from the role of that guy nobody likes opening up to in social settings.
"Don't know. I guess this one just awakens those urges," Candy helps herself to a sip of her cranberry juice to minimize the familiar, painful sensation building between her legs as Lauren slides her fingers inward, innocently grazing over the special zones that usually gets her going. "Plus, I love having a big family. Family means everything to me."
"Same," says Ned.
"Wait—if you don't mind me asking—how'd you get pregnant? I know that, with lesbians, the process is a lot different. Did you go to a sperm bank, or do you know the father, or...?" Becky probes, taking one for the team.
Lauren and Candy share a look and make an unspoken agreement to not spill the beans. They will laugh about it later.
"The good ole sperm bank," Lauren responds, grinning. "Took a couple of tries, though."
"Ugh. That must've been so annoying," Alice empathizes, crinkling her nose.
"Eh...not really. It was pretty fun for me," Candy shrugs and squirms in her seat, crossing her legs and trapping Lauren's hand between her thighs.
"Well, hopefully the baby fever goes down after you pop out this one. Trust me, I've seen and heard stories from a lot of people I've known for years who have children. They all wished they stopped at the first one if not the second," Tyler comments.
"Are you kidding? I'd love my own little soccer team!" Lauren lights up as she confesses that. "It'd be my fucking honour—excuse my language—my greatest pleasure to have so many. At least five," she drops the number, recalling that that was the exact amount Candy said she wanted. "I'll have many regrets in life, but that will never be one of them. I have so much love to give—so much of me I don't want to keep for myself. And because I have such a wonderful, devoted, down-to-earth woman by my side to help me raise them, I know I'd be in for the ride of my life. I think I'd be one of those parents that hate being away from their family because I just know I'd have it so good with her. One hundred percent could not be prouder to be doing this. No regrets," Lauren cut her bragging short, otherwise she'd go on forever and wear the other couples out.
"Wow. It's really nice that you talk about her that way and you have that outlook. It can be hard to have that attitude—especially when you have so much against you in life. That's really sweet, Lauren," says Becky, accepting that Tyler will never be that man for her. She wonders if she can test out the whole "lesbian" thing, like it, and hit the jackpot on the first go.
"Hard agree. Cheers to that," Ned concludes the topic of conversation and raises his wine glass, the others following suit with theirs.
Candy, who is still heavily fixated on Lauren with stars in her eyes and her hormones running increasingly rampant, restlessly stirs in her seat and feigns sickness when she covers her mouth instead of joining her glass with theirs. "Excuse me, I think I'm about to be hit with morning sickness again," she warns apologetically, snatching Lauren's hand as she jumps to her feet. "Alice, I'm going to use your restroom, if you don't mind."
"Not at all! Please, go," Alice encourages, empathetic to her situation. "I don't miss that part of being pregnant!"
"Oh my God, you remember that time when Bill, Sandy, and Shauna invited us to that one trip to fucking Sea World, and you—"
"Come with me," Candy practically yanks Lauren out of her seat and races out of the dining room, hurrying down the white expansive halls, finally reaching the guest bathroom with the door slamming behind them.
Candy doesn't warn Lauren after switching on the faucet, she just goes in for the kill and attacks her lips after shoving her into the door, pushing up against her body with her hips. Lauren doesn't question it or protest on the basis of being guests in a stranger's home—she doesn't carry her politeness with her into this room. Instead, she gets on the same page as Candy effective-immediately and gets hard before Candy could yank down her jeans and fist her cock into action. Admittedly, she is sort of taken aback with all of this, and she didn't expect Candy to jump her bones anywhere outside of the privacy of their own car or hotel room, but she doesn't choose now as the time to call it out.
They once had sex in a movie theaters, for christ sake.
"Touch me. Please, I can't handle it anymore," Candy mutters breathlessly, guiding Lauren's hand to where she throbbed. She falls into her arms when Lauren shoves two digits past her dripping folds and thrusts in the aggressive manner that is needed in this moment. She needs it bad, and she needs it fast. But this position isn't good enough, and she's worried about someone swinging by the door to check in on her. "Wait. Come here," Candy tugs Lauren along as she backs up against the quartz sink counter she props herself up on. She spreads her legs and muffles the sounds she makes with deep kisses—reluctant to let go of Lauren's lips from the lack of trust she has in herself to remain quiet.
Lauren fingers her with the same intensity of her heart that bangs against her chest, and she uses her other hand to stroke her stiff erection that twitches and jumps with excitement in her palm. She breaks the kiss to catch her breath, and tells Candy to 'shhh' when her fingers quicken and drag over the spongy, rigid patch behind her clit, bringing the younger woman to a madness she isn't too sure she can satiate in this one go.
"Stick it in," Candy begs over and over, whimpering and choking on her own low moans after Lauren quickly spits on her dick and safely guides it inside, replacing her drenched fingers. Candy widens her legs as Lauren pulls her to the edge of the counter, and she bites her lip as hard as she can to suppress the guttural moans and heavy sighs lurking in the depths of her throat. She's thankful when Lauren clasps a strong hand over her mouth so that she at least has some release, because she doesn't think her silence can last anymore, given how hard she's being fucked right now.
"I know, I know," Lauren whispers by her ear. "But you didn't want to wait. Now you're just gonna have to take it with your mouth shut. None of those pretty moans I love hearing so much," she taunts while plowing her taut hips into Candy, giving only half of what she knows Candy wants all of. Her thumbs burrow on the insides of Candy's thighs, where they begin, and she holds on tight and forces her legs to spread wider for an easier fit. Lauren curses underneath her breath as she watches herself slip out a few times, and how beautiful Candy's arousal looks coating her dick. "Fuuuuck. I love being inside you like this so fucking much."
"Baby..." Candy mewls, embarrassed to admit that she's already on the verge of coming. She's looking at it too, and it amplifies the hammering ache around her sex. Lauren's continuous grunting as she holds the hem of her shirt up with her teeth turns her on, the glimpses of her flexing abs makes her crazier, and the sounds they're making that cuts through the running water leaves her wanting more—wanting them to be noisier, to scream, let loose, do more than just this for their quickie. "Que ricoooo, mmmmmmm..." she tilts her head back, assisting Lauren's movements with the loose grasp she has on her snapping hips.
Lauren throws herself forward with her hands clutching the edges of the counter, burying herself to the base, shortening her thrusts but quickening her pace. Candy's breathing also quickens and dizzies her, inviting tingles all over her skin. Lauren covers her mouth again when an accidental high-pitched, airy sigh escapes, and she shoots her a warning look. "You want me to stop?" she whispers the threat.
Candy shakes her head.
"Look at me," she orders and Candy whines. "Not a fucking sound." Candy nods and Lauren grabs her chin, kisses her hard, and then gently shoves the same fingers she fucked Candy with inside of her mouth, letting her suck on them. "Good girl. See how well you get fucked when you listen to me?" Lauren grins, massaging her clit with her left hand as she picks up her thrusting again. "Don't I always take care of you?"
"Yes," Candy chokes out, rocking against her rotating finger.
"Don't I always look after my girl?"
"Mhm."
"Yeah. Now do what you do best and cum on this dick. Come on."
Candy's eyes roll back and she comes on the spot just from Lauren's words alone. Weakly, she bucks her hips and rides out her first orgasm, not expecting the second that's about to come crashing into her the more Lauren works the nerves on her clit. Or the third. Lauren turns her around and bends her over the sink, forcing one leg to bend over the counter as well, before she slides back in and grips onto her ass that jiggles against her pelvis with every firm thrust. Candy bites her fist and holds her breath as best as she can, struggling to uphold her silence in this position. She feels it more, deeper—fuller than it felt in the previous position. She tightens around Lauren and slams her ass back, inducing the unmistakable slapping noises that'd rat them both out. But she no longer cares, and she does whatever the fuck she wants, when she wants, and how she wants, regardless of who's around because at the end of the day nobody can tell her shit.
"You okay in there? I have some ginger chews and Zofran if you need it," Alice informs outside the door, knocking gently.
"She's gonna be fine! Her stomach just hurts really bad, that's all," Lauren yells out, slowing down but still with a deathly grip on Candy's body. She smirks as she leans over and kisses her neck before Candy picks her head up and initiates sloppy, open-mouthed kisses with tongue, thirsty for every bit of Lauren she can get. "I'm gonna make you feel it in your stomach," she quietly warns, mindful of the baby but on a mission to see to it that her promises aren't empty.
"I'll leave it on the end table by the door next to the wine cellar! Take your time, please, we're not going anywhere. Like I said, I know how it is."
"Thanks for your patience, we should be out shortly when she's feeling a little better!" Lauren stifles a giggle when Candy goes out of her way to make a gagging sound like she's actually vomiting—which acts as a faster remedy to get Alice scurrying off so she doesn't catch the rest of it. She leans forward and laughs with Candy, peppering affectionate kisses on her face, praising her for being so fucking funny.
"I'm so fucking in love with you," Candy sighs, her mind stuck on the things Lauren said at the dinner table. "Do whatever you want with me, baby, I'll love it. I want anything you want to do to me."
"We have time for other things. Let's just finish here and call it an early night if you're too fired up to stick around with these lovely people. Deal?"
"Mhm. Come on," Candy backs into her again before bouncing up and down, moaning profusely into the back of her own hand.
She doesn't see Lauren crumbling behind her, rubbing her palms over her face and grabbing at the roots of her hair, weakening from the warm sensation bubbling in her lower belly, soon immobilized by the tightness in her balls. Candy can't possibly understand what she's doing to Lauren, nor is she focused on that because she's coming again, and she's as light as a feather from head to toe. That's supposed to be it, but Lauren flips her over again and hoists her into her arms by the back of her thighs. With considerable strength and control, Lauren hooks both arms underneath Candy's thighs and braces her arms around her back, locking her hands together to keep Candy in place as she widens her stance slightly, and then plows into her, using her hole like it was made just for her to fuck and come in.
"Oh! Oh my God...oh my God...oh God...oh G-g..."
"Hold onto me. Tighter. Así, bebecita, sigue así," Lauren husks, her endurance and stamina worthy of applause as she does all of the work herself, for herself. All Candy has to do is look pretty and take it—silently, of course. An impossible task in this position. "Shhhh. Bésame, mi amor, dale." Lauren moans into Candy's mouth, suddenly worried that she can't keep quiet either yet doing her best anyway. A few more pumps and she's spasming beyond her control, spurting thick, hot ropes inside Candy, bringing Candy's trembling body back and forth, up and down until every last drop has been squeezed out of her. "Esoooo," Lauren growls, clenching her jaw as she pulls out to admire the beautiful work of art pooling from the cartel boss's cunt. "That's my girl," she whispers, blowing out of a huff of air. "Coño. I should take a picture of this to keep inside my pocket." (Like this, babygirl, keep it up. Kiss me, my love, come on. That's itttt.)
"Enjoy this now," Candy whispers, panting with an ear-to-ear grin plastered across her face. "Fuck me in this position as much as you can now before you're not able to anymore."
Lauren chuckles and sets her down for clean up. "Be careful with what you ask for. Lo haré." (I'll do it.)
-
Red Light Quarter - Miami Beach, Miami-Dade
A hidden door off the side entrance to the main entrance toward the brothel whisks open, and an influx of Vice Angels huddle around it, shoving each other and pooling inside in pairs, rushing to see what the fuss had been about since the early afternoon, and why so many were summoned on such short notice. Their attitudes aren't as serious as the situation must be; they're hollering over each other, cackling, carrying on their relaxed moods and party vibes over to the meetup—unsuspecting of the storm clouds that are about to rain over their parade beyond that door. And Orion is affirmative that Lola is the one behind this, with a plan to retaliate upon awakening to the disturbing fact that Jasmine is missing and nowhere to be found. He doesn't need to be there; he wasn't summoned.
And it's better this way. Why act in a movie when you can have front row seats and popcorn to go with watching it?
Candy's girls keep it business as usual, handling the high volume of clientele like an army of ants tasked with carrying an object far larger than what's supposed to be realistic for them to bear. Cars line up by the sidewalk, wrapping around the entire block, extending to another and wrapping around that same block. But this can't be solely for sex. The girls perform spectacularly, but they aren't as unforgettable and craved for as Candy's sweet, highly addictive cocaine Diego has been heavily pushing in the streets. Half of these cars are only here for a taste of that, but the girls advertised two for the price of one and banked more cash that way.
Orion never bothered to try out either merchandise. He does yearn for the soothing touch of a woman, the pungent, sweet scent of their musk when they're well groomed, the combination of body heat and fluids on a balmy afternoon or a chilly, lonesome night. For home cooked meals and the softness that reminds him of home—the good days in Havana, bundled in innocence and his mother's love. He pretends to not miss such things, and that he can live without the affection, but his heart still beats of fond memories and deep sadness, therefore they always catch up to him. Orion's thoughts drift to his short-lived encounters with Sasha. When he isn't busy carrying out the plans of the Estrabaos, he's daydreaming of her, secretly following her around when she shows up to the brothel for a meeting or hangs out at any of the restaurants on her break. Her routine seldom switches up; he's grateful for that. He needs predictability. She may be a mystery to him, but not a difficult one. He just happens to be too shy to figure her out.
A classy, strong, refined woman like her? He can easily mess that up with his stupid Achilles heel: saying the wrong things to women he's attracted to.
'Knock knock knock!'
Orion jumps and reacts at an appropriate speed to Sasha knocking on his car window. Wait a minute... Sasha!
She gestures for him to roll down the window, which he does before she can lower her hand. Sasha flips her hydrated curls behind her shoulder and slowly runs her tongue over her front teeth as she bends over, folding her arms over the car door, her red nails drumming in waves. "Hola," she delivers the greeting, voice dripping with lust, pale green eyes low and sultry. "Estas ocupado?" (Hello. Are you busy?)
"No. No, de ninguna manera. Hola," he replies, falling victim to her hypnosis as she turns it on. (No, not at all. Hey.)
"Porqué estás solo?" (Why are you alone?)
"Normalmente lo soy. Por qué, señorita?" (I usually am. Why, miss?)
"Want some company?" Sasha smirks.
Orion discreetly grabs his crotch through his pants and adjusts it. He isn't prepared for what he thinks she's alluding to. "Uh—"
Sasha takes initiative and pops open the lock, tugs open the passenger door, and swiftly gets in, her scent of a ripe flower waiting to be plucked filling the car—pleasantly suffocating Orion's nostrils to where he can practically taste her on the pad of his tongue. She pulls down the hem of her white, fitted denim dress held together by a thick red belt, making herself comfortable before she can engage further with Orion. She takes a second to observe her surroundings, appreciating that although he's as dirty as they come, he at least keeps a clean car.
"Qué puedo hacer por ti?" Orion questions. (What can I do for you?)
"Can I be honest?" Sasha cuts to the chase. Normally, she'd indulge in small talk, figure out the points of mental weakness first, make the other person feel important and tap into the parts of them that haven't been nurtured. But she thinks Orion may be too boring for all of that. "I had a long day. With Lauren gone," she tosses in a frustrated sigh, "and me having to look after everyone...everything...pues...yo no sé," she frowns and flashes a hint of resentment before it's gone, cutting herself off. "I'm tired. I thought I wanted to talk...but maybe no. Do you understand?" (Well, I don't know.)
"No quiero asumir," he chuckles, scratching his scruff. "What do you want to do? How can I help?" (I don't want to assume.)
Sasha kinks her brow and leans over the console. "Would you be offended if I only wanted sex right now?" Her grin expands when he grows shy and emits another nervous chuckle, and she joins him, pretending to be nervous as well. "Sorry, I'm very forward. No me gusta perder el tiempo. And you're the only man I have a feeling is worthy of handling a woman like me." (I don't like to waste time.)
"I respect it. I think...yes...pero...I don't have my own apartment yet."
"De verdad? Que raro!" She playfully nudges his arm, teasing him to loosen him up more. "Good thing a bed is just an option in that case. Pero...you can always come back to mine..." Sasha hikes her fingertips up his arm, increasing the proximity between them. "Like I say, Lauren is not here, and I'm all alone. I don't think she will mind." (Really? How weird!)
"Wait. Really?" Orion blinks out his perplexity. Such trust! More secrets can be uncovered while she's sleeping. "Are you sure?"
Sasha does the next unexpected thing by powering forward and pushing her lips gently to his. He kisses her back, but she controls the pace and the manner in which they kiss. She leaves him wanting more when she cuts it so short and licks her lips when he opens his eyes. "Vamos, guapo. We have all night with each other. We have to take advantage while our bosses are still gone." (Come on, handsome.)
-
Wilmington, North Carolina
9:56pm
"Do you like being called 'Sad Girl'?" Candy asks out of the blue, walking hand-in-hand with Lauren back to their hotel, their arms swinging due to the cheery mood Lauren had been in up until this point.
Lauren flexes her jaw and turns her head toward the street that mirrors the emptiness wading in and out of her heart. "I guess so. Why?"
"What about Alacrán?"
"I don't mind either one."
"But do you prefer it? How strongly do you identify with them?"
"Very strongly, Candy. I mean...I can ask the same for you. Do you think you're sweet?"
"I know I am," Candy chirps, skipping a little.
Lauren snorts. "You're not that sweet, don't even front like that."
"Yes I am. But if you fuck with me, I turn sour. Doesn't mean I'm no longer Candy."
"I do think that's the one name that suits you the most, though. And I love it...a lot."
"You know who came up with it?" Candy treads lightly with the introduction she's about to make. "Luca," she waits for Lauren's negative reaction or for her to drop her hand, but instead she holds it tighter and keeps quiet. "I was so young...maybe eleven years old when he first gave me the name. Everyone else sort of picked it up, and I guess it stuck. It was just because they thought I was too sweet and kind to everyone, regardless of who they were. That's the story we all ran with. But actually, one day, I had seen something I wasn't supposed to. My family made the effort to keep my eyes innocent for as long as possible—with the exception of guns on display, drugs being done at parties I wasn't allowed to come downstairs for, fights that broke out but were always taken down to the basement so I couldn't see how they ended. The first time I saw someone getting killed, it was the middle of the night, and I was supposed to be in bed sleeping because I had already said my prayers and Luca tucked me in, but I couldn't stop thinking about those Nerd ropes he bought me earlier that day with the promise that I'd have them tomorrow, and how I never tried them before. Of course, I couldn't help myself, and so I snuck downstairs to climb those cabinets and take one back to my room."
"No way," Lauren burst out cackling, bringing Candy closer into her side. "Don't tell me, Candy..."
"Yep. Those fucking nerd ropes are the culprit. Normally, I didn't disobey my brother. If he said no to me or that I couldn't have something, that was that. And I respected him even when I was mad at him. But those nerd ropes had me in a chokehold..." she sighs, shaking her head at her younger self. "You know, the blue ones? Yeah, those. They looked sooooo good! I just had to have 'em, baby. That was the first time I ever acted up, and it was over a piece of candy. But because I wasn't patient, I paid the price by..." she stops, the memory flashing in her eyes. She swallows dryly and her face twists from the pain she still feels for that man. It still sickens her despite witnessing the same scenario multiple times since the formation of her own cartel. "Luca, Santiago, and my uncle Thomas had a dead man, shot in the head, over plastic tarps on the living room floor. All of them wore aprons and gloves, had power tools and machetes, and they were hacking away at him, dismembering his limbs and shoving them into black garbage bags. I'll never forget the looks on their faces when they saw me see them, and how enraged Luca was until he tried to lie to preserve my innocence just a while longer by claiming that this was just a hyper realistic mannequin they were working on to help police officers solve a very important case."
"Fuck," Lauren breathed, deeply saddened by that. Candy was scarred four years before she was. It wasn't often that Lauren checked her privilege of growing up outside of that life; this is one of those times she made sure to do that. "I'm sorry, baby."
"It's fine. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I may not have seen much, but I wasn't oblivious," Candy brushes it off. "He kept calling me Candy after that. And whenever I found out someone had died because of EC, I'd cry and complain that it wasn't right because we are all God's children and nobody deserves to be hurt that way. That's when the name really stuck. Too sweet for my own fucking good."
Lauren lets go of Candy when they pull up to the hotel, and she takes this opportunity to light her blunt away from the entrance, before they can go inside and she can't smoke anymore (thanks to a guest complaining about the smell and having to bribe the hotel manager with a hundred bucks to let this one stay out of a police report). She keeps her distance from Candy, out of respect, and covers the flame with her hand as she burns the tip just enough to keep it pulling. Lauren leans against a brick wall that contrasts tastefully with her grey sweater and dark blue jeans, and she folds one arm over her chest as she takes her drags.
"I want to keep our kid away from all that shit, mami. I'm being for real. I don't care if one of us is protecting the other or our kid, or if you're lying to me about leaving this all behind and you still want to commit yourself to running Vice Angeles. He or she doesn't get to witness any of it. They don't grow up in that culture like you and I did. You hear me?" Lauren's tone is stern and unforgiving of any response that isn't 'yes, Lauren'.
"What if it can't be helped?" Candy twists her body with her hands behind her back, her eyes falling to the clean sidewalk beneath her new heels.
"Fuck that, it can be helped. The cycle ends with us. Respectfully, I don't give a fuck about what you and I got going on back home. I would never put that above our kid, and I hope you wouldn't either."
"Or what, Lauren?" Candy rebels. That also can't be helped.
Lauren fights the dirty look she wants to give Candy. She also fights the rage boiling her blood like a volcano preparing to erupt. She does this by smoking more of her weed. "I'm not tryna control you. This is me saving us—"
"I never said I was leaving. I said we were leaving to take a break, but I'd be back to run business as usual."
"What?! Baby," Lauren pushes herself off the wall and dashes toward her, "you literally said we could go to Belize or Japan and shit to start a new fucking life, how are you—"
"YOU said that. I let YOU talk. Don't put words in my mouth," Candy combats her tone with indifference and maintains a poker face.
"So we're STILL not on the same page??"
"Apparently not! One of us has to accept the situation as it is, and it's not me. I made my choice. I'll go away for months at a time, maybe less than that, but I'll always come back. That's my empire that I built. I can still keep it AND my children too."
"Your children," Lauren repeats, following up with a dark laugh. She points the fingers that holds her blunt and shakes it at Candy, "Now I see how you rockin'. Damn. I really thought we were getting somewhere."
"Oh my God. Do we have to keep going back and forth about this particular—"
A stranger rudely shoves into Candy, who was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, and doesn't look back or apologise. As if Lauren needed another fucking reason. The gang leader doesn't say anything, she doesn't think, she doesn't even look at Candy. She tosses the blunt and barrels forth with her nostrils flaring, and then she grabs the back of that man's coat, yanks him back, and shoves him harder than the wind that blew her hair, causing him to stumble and trip over his own feet.
"Yo, what the hell—wait, wait, no, I'm sorry! WAIT!"
Lauren digs her dual pistols into his ribcage and speedily backs him into the narrow alleyway between two closed shops, still not muttering a single word yet. Candy doesn't hear anything but the sound of footsteps scuffing against the concrete, and she doesn't see what's going on until she follows the path they took and catches Lauren stopping deep enough within the alley to start beating the shit out of the guy—pistol whipping him, repeatedly kneeing him in the gut, swinging her elbow across his face, holding him close and then throwing him against the wall before she extends an arm with one gun aimed at his forehead as he cowers and sobs, pleading for his life.
"Callaté," Lauren warns ominously. Without looking away, "Mami, ven. Mira lo que voy a hacer." (Shut up. Mami, come. Look what I'm going to do.)
Candy hesitates. She peers over her shoulder, spotting some people pass by on both sides of the street, oblivious to the trouble unraveling in this blacked out alleyway, and feels her heartbeat creeping up her throat. She doesn't like this. This isn't necessary. Sure, the idiot could've demonstrated some manners; maybe he was just pissed off and her being in his way was his final straw. But even so, he didn't deserve this.
"Baby..." Candy slowly approaches, pushing her hands out. "Baby, put the gun down. You already did your thing. Let him go."
"Nah, fuck that."
"Mi amor..."
"Unnecessary violence, right? I know a lot about that," Lauren tells the both of them. "See this tear drop beneath my eye? Guess why I got it." The guy is too afraid to speak, and his teeth are chattering violently. She digs the barrel into his skull and he hears the click nobody on his end wants to hear; she's preparing to pull the trigger. "Unnecessary violence. Saddest day of my fucking life."
"Lauren!" Candy hisses, forced to stay at a distance from them.
"I lost my parents to unnecessary violence, too. Maybe I should've gotten two tear drops. What you just did a moment ago? You ain't have to do that. No one told you to bump into my girl like that and continue walking like you ain't had shit to be sorry for," she grits her teeth and sneers. "Unnecessary violence. You keeping up with me there? Yeah? Notice where I'm going with this? Nod if you can't fucking speak, puto. Good," she withdraws the gun from his forehead and keeps it at her groin. She uses her other hand, that holds the other gun, and points it at Candy with a nausea inducing smile. "This lovely lady here, the one you pushed, doesn't quite understand the gravity of unnecessary violence—the domino effect it can have—the consequences that come with it. Before you came along, I was just fully made aware that the rest of my fucking life will continue to consist of unnecessary violence, and I have no choice but to continue participating in it if I want to keep her. Imagine that!"
"For the love of God, please, Lauren, let him walk away and we'll talk about this some more upstairs. Calmly."
"I will pull this fucking trigger," Lauren resumes her previous position with her gun, bringing the man down to his knees now, "if this is what it takes. This poor motherfucker will die due to unnecessary violence, same as everybody else will in your fucking world, if you tell me that your decision is final and your mind cannot be changed. I swear to you on Aleesia, Candy, that I will never ask you of this again, and I will proudly follow you into the pits of hell without protest if you think it's a good destination—I will fully back your decision to commit to Vice Angeles if you tell me and this man, right now, that leaving it behind is out of the question. No more going back and forth; this argument ends here once and for all."
Candy slowly shakes her head in disbelief that Lauren would give her an ultimatum—and this way. And she doesn't have a lot of time left to think about it, because Lauren is too impulsive and will make a decision for her, and she doesn't want that. She doesn't want this innocent man to die for nothing, she doesn't want to push away what she does want. And she wants Vice Angeles more than she wants somebody she doesn't know from a can of paint to live and escape with a tale to tell. When she turns her back, Lauren takes it as confirmation and she pulls the trigger. His body collapses with a thud, and there's a faint sound of Lauren laughing with a lack of amusement.
"Ohhh, baby," she says in the middle of her hysterical fit, her laughter developing shivers down Candy's spin. "Buckle up. Because starting now? We are so locked in."
***