2
The morning droned on without incident and Lucera found herself checking the time every other minute, as she anxiously awaited her lunch period. Tucked away in her own little cosy office adjacent to the president's speech writer, she painstakingly applied the final touches to the transcript from the audio recording provided, courtesy Mr. Mitchel, the Communications advisor to His excellency, of the hours-before credentials ceremony. As she brought up the Microsoft file menu and selected the print option, she pondered the blessing of landing a job she would have never chosen out for herself.
She was fresh out of college, having graduated with First Honour's, one of the first disabled person of her generation to excel at the tertiary level of education. As such, the local paper and news networks wanted to accessorize her success, and this caught the attention of the Office of the President which was about to open a private internship program with the aim to provide job opportunities for young person's seeking employment. The present's private secretary got in contact with her family the day her story made front page of the Express, Guardian, and Newsday, stating that the president requested a private audience. When she met His Excellency for the first time, she instantly took a liking to his charismatic and vibrant heir. She felt the feeling was mutual. After all, he hired her on as his personal transcriptionist and even invited her to several of his public appearances as part of his entourage. And wasn't it her luck that Gabe got wind of the same internship program and later signed on as an assistant to the president's communications advisor. An urgent knocking on the dark oak door brought the young woman out of her musings, and she rose Brusly to her feet, as the door swung inward.
"Ms. Montgomery," Aide-the-camp sergeant Kadeem Cooper greeted coolly.
"Ah, yes, I have His Excellency's transcript ready for him."
"Very good ma'am," the sergeant replied and paused before continuing, "but this concerns the First Lady."
"Oh?"
Lucera schooled her features into a mask of neutrality. Though she was undisputedly fond of the president, she had never warmed up to his glamorous wife, for her outward charm was about the only becoming quality about her. Lucera had always felt Her Excellency to be hostile particularly towards her, lacking any kind of sympathy for her condition—not that she required it.
"I am to escort you towards her office forthwith," the sergeant informed.
A tight-lipped smile marring her presumed neutral expression, she stiffly handed off the printed material to the aide-de-camp and reached for her walking stick propped up against the mahogany rectangular-topped desk.
Gently gripping the edge of the sergeant's elbow where the bone was the sharpest, she allowed him to escort her down a series of corridors and across a manicured lawn towards the isolated presidential home. She could feel the shift in location as her heels were transferred from marble concrete pass lush greenery onto plush carpet.
"Sir," a uniformed soldier greeted as he got the door. "Ma'am."
A cold draft breezed over Lucera from the air-conditioning indoors, causing her to shiver a little. She should have brought along a coat. She forgot how terribly blizzard-like this place could be. They stepped into a spacious waiting area, and the sergeant seated her on what was probably the softest, silkiest cushion known to man before he bade her farewell.
"I will get these to His Excellency straightaway, ma'am," he said. "Her Excellency should be along shortly."
Lucera nodded in his general direction and nervously began fiddling with her nails. Seconds later he was gone and she was alone. She shut her eyes and took a moment to engage her heavenly father in conversation.
"Falling asleep on the job, Lucera?"
The maiden startled and sprang to her feet, as the first lady swept into the lobby with flourish.
"Of course not, Your Excellen—"
"Hush gyul," the first lady snapped, her Trini accent bleeding through. "I nuh in de mood for your white girl accent."
Trembling slightly, Lucera pressed her lips together, not daring to breathe, as the first lady closed in.
"I brought yuh here to have a little chat." crimson-painted lips curled their shape into a grotesque sneer, with contemptuous eyes of burning coal that smouldered from a face of porcelain perfection. Something evil lurched behind that seemingly impenetrable beauty, though, something that made Lucera want to bolt for Trinity Hills.
"I would like to know what de fuck a Venezuelan whore doing working for my husband," the first lady spat threw clenched teeth.
Lucera could suddenly feel the stinging slap of her breath on her face, a fowl, rancid smell pouring off the first lady in waves causing a cloying sensation to crawl up the back of her neck. The first lady squandered no more time with frivolous insults and was upon Lucera in the next moment like a vengeful lioness, tackling the helpless young woman to the carpeted floor.
Lucera's heart leapt into her throat and panic began to rear its ugly head, as this woman, this thing, loomed over her like a black cloud of incomprehensible rage.
"I go cut you, bitch," it spat. "I going to feed on yuh till nothing left but a dried-up husk. I go drain every last ounce of that precious crimson elixir zinging through yuh veins, and I go have yuh soul."
Its oily lips twitched at the corners as it raked a serrated claw vertically across the valley of Lucera's breasts. A black, abhorrent cackle bubbled up the back of the thing's throat, greenish bile squirting from its charred lips like undigested avocado.
Somehow Lucera knew that this wasn't the first lady. It couldn't be. It talked and before the swift turn of events even acted like her. But whatever this thing was, it couldn't be remotely human. She had to get away from it. She had to—
The thought was interrupted, as a powerful pang suddenly blasted through her mid-rift. Something wet and sticky quickly soaked through her work shirt as a coppery scent permeated the air, though the feeling was swiftly lost as Lucera began to slip away from reality.
"No!" she heard a familiar voice roar in her mind. "Use the staff—your cane—baby. I am almost there. Don't lose consciousness."
But Lucera felt as if she were being carried away by a velvety, softly wafting breeze. She just wanted to close her eyes and sleep in peaceful perpetuity.
"No, Lucera," the beautiful voice begged with a hysterical edge. "Lucy, the cane. It is a staff of enormous power."
An abrupt burst of adrenalin rocketed through her system, clearing the airy haze enough for her to swing the cane towards her assailant. Although she did not pack a lot of force into the blow, the fallacious first lady replica was sent catapulting across the room, a thrillingly terrifying squeal erupting from the impostor's lips. The little energy boost she was afforded was rapidly depleted shortly thereafter, and Lucera found herself succumbing to the quiet. The last thing she heard was a thunderous snarl that promised retribution in the form of a slow, scalding demise.
A groan slipped from Lucera's lips as she came to, a throbbing migraine threatening to split her head in half. Everywhere hurt. Determining she was in a bed of some sort, certainly not her own, since it dwarfed her petite figure three times more than her own bed, she struggled to pull herself up into a sitting position but quickly cried out in pain and flopped back onto the pillows. Gabe was at her side in the next instance. She always seemed to know whenever he was there with her, long before he took his first breath in her presence.
His hands was on her in the next moment, and Lucera realised she was naked in his bed. And he was touching her, and she was naked in his bed. And he was... oh my god!
"Love, Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."
He probably felt her tensing up, but she was not panicking—at least, not in the sense that she feared him.
He retracted his hands and drew the covers over her. Lucera stared in his general direction, a look of befuddled curiosity on her face.
"What," she began to ask and stopped.
"There are some things you need to know, but your parents will be here soon and you should get dressed. Do you need help?"
Lucera furrowed her brows and frowned.
"Gabe, I—I am so confused."
"I know you are, but I promise you, you won't be for much longer."
Not knowing how she managed to tap into her presumably depleted energy reserves, she launched herself at him and severely miscalculated. Before her face became acquainted with the tiled floor of Gabe's quarters, however, he swept her effortlessly into his capable arms, and she did not hesitate to mould her lips to his.
Gabe immediately tightened his grip and deepened the kiss, a rumbling sound of the sexiest kind resonating at the back of his throat. Lucera moaned in response, entangling her hands in his sleek auburn curls. She was suddenly in his lap and they were making out passionately, as if utterly starved of the other for far too long.
His hands were everywhere, and Lucera could not remember a time she had felt more connected to anyone. In fact, she had never been so intimate with a man. The feelings, the sensations, ignited by the masterful ministrations of her beloved Gabe was a raging inferno of euphoria. Delicious shudders rippled up her spine, her pulse skyrocketing through the roof as Gabe's fingers blazed a path southward.
"We should stop," he panted, resting his forehead against the top of her head.
Lucera's laboured breathing prevented her from being capable of a verbal response and she did not want to stop—at least her body was reticent to do so. It was a roaring furnace whose fires needed to be stoked rather than doused. Biting her bottom lip, she nodded minutely, and allowed Gabe to snake a quilt around her.
"I'll get you one of my shirts."
"Where is the bathroom?" She enquired, pulling the quilt snugly against her and getting to her feet. Reaching back, she searched a spot on the bed behind her and retrieved her walking stick.
"Keep to the wall and the door is five feet ahead of you."
Lucera needed no further prompting and breezed out of the room into the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. Leaning against the door, she took a moment to compose herself and calm her erratic pulse. Her heart felt as if it would burst out of her chest at any second. What was she thinking, kissing Gabe like that? She only hope her impulsive actions had not obliterated their friendship. She shut her eyes, a portrait of abyssal pain, and remained like that for some time.
An insistent knock propelled her from her trance-like state.
"Luce," came Gabe's worried voice partially muffled by the door that separated them, "are you alright?"
Was she alright? Truth is she wasn't sure how she felt. The only thing she was certain of is that she was feeling too much, all at once. Worrisome thoughts flitted through her mind about her best friend, her only real friend. Her lip quivered and she fought to master the tumult.
"Lucera?"
"I'll be out in a few," she croaked and made her slow way towards the basin. "Just leave the stuff on the ground near the door."
"Okay, I am also placing your undergarments on top of the shirt. They had to be removed so I could get to the stab wounds you sustained in your lower abdomen near the bikini line. Uh—"
She sensed his hesitation and heard movement as he placed the clothes on the floor.
"Your work suit was completely soiled, so I took the liberty of sending it to dry cleaning. Is that okay?"
She nodded, then realised he could not see her.
"Yes, thanks."
"Okay, are you hungry? I cooked this morning before I picked you up for work."
Turning on the faucet, she splashed her face, the cold bite of water helping to assemble her frantic nerves.
"That would be nice," she yelled over the rushing torrent and began taking inventory of her body for injuries. Her brows knitted in confusion, as her hands skimmed across unblemished skin.
"Hmm, odd,",
She applied pressure to the area where she thought she felt a mild ache moments after she regained consciousness. She had been stabbed multiple times by that wicked woman at the president's house, hadn't she? And then, a sharp slice of fear cleaved through her stupor, and she crumpled to the floor, uncontrollable sobs racking her frame. That thing that attacked her was no woman, or was even human for that matter. And she remembered hearing Gabe's warnings in her mind when he was not even present in the room with her. And what about her cane which had a potent effect on the thing attacking her? Lucera didn't know what kind of freak show her life was becoming, but she intended to find out. She was already well-acquainted with the peculiar.
Clutching her walking stick in one hand, she used her free hand to grip the sink and clambered unsteadily to her feet. She made short work of retrieving the pile of clothing left for her at the door and got dressed, although one couldn't exactly call it as such. Still it did an effective job of covering her up as the shirt Gabe loaned her fell pass her thighs.
She sensed him before she heard footsteps approach. Concern clutched her heart along with an intense emotion she could not name, for these were not her own feelings.
"I'm okay," she choked, knowing the question on his mind to ask. She advanced towards the door and hesitated, a palm grazing the doorknob.
Gabe sighed from the other side.
"Food's ready, and your parents called to say they are five minutes away."
All of that was dandy, but what about her and him?
Trembling slightly, her hand rattled the door and she let it fall limply at her side.
"Lucera, what is going on in there? I'm coming—"
"No!" She exclaimed and shrank back against an adjacent wall.
"No," she said more quietly, "please don't."
Tears stung the back of her eyes as her nostrils flared. In the next instant the door busted open and Lucera was suddenly burrowing her face in a hard, masculine chest, her sobs smothered, as Gabe wound his arms tightly round her.
"Baby, what's wrong?" He breathed against her tousled ebony tresses. "Talk to me, please. You know you can talk to me. Don't shut me out."
He lovingly stroked her hair.
Lucera waged an internal war with herself to master her emotions. This was Gabe, her ride or die, as they say, her partner in crime, her confident, her best friend. He would not forsake her.
"Gabe, oh, Gabe," she moaned, his name a litany of prayers on her lips. "I don't want to lose you. I never want to lose you."
His hand stilled in her hair. Tilting her head upwards towards him, he stared into the swirling grey depths of profoundly pained eyes, a tumultuous churning ocean of emotion.
"Baby, you will never lose me, never."
And then his mouth was upon her, devouring her lips like she was his fountain of eternal life, his salvation. He eased her back against the wall, his front pressing against that sweet spot between her legs, procuring a moan from her lips.
Lucera rocked her hips.
Eliciting a guttural moan of his own, Gabe slid a hand up her thigh, his fingers dancing on the edge of her panties.
"Do you want me to stop here?" He traced a tentative finger horizontally along her bikini line.
"No, please," she panted, her voice husky and dark with desire, "I want...." What did she want. She needed release. She needed Gabe to release her, so that he could claim her and she, him.
A powerful palm was suddenly pressed against her clit, and Lucera cried out at the explosive intensity of it all. His warm, feathery breath tickled her ear.
"We only have a few minutes. I don't want your parents finding us like this, but I am not going to hide my feelings for you any longer—" he dipped a finger into her moisture and began swirling his forefinger round the sensitive knob between her swollen, slick folds—"and this thing we have."
Lucera was on cloud nine as she writhed in blissful torment. Her delicate hands gripped the back of Gabe's head and combed their way through his mop of curls, as he pleasured her like no other had before. The sensation of his masterful fingers strumming her clit like a fret while the pooling moisture of her scalding epicentre made the most erotic slushy sounds blew her mind into infinitesimal dizzying chunks. His skilful strokes increased the tempo, and she undulated her voluptuous hips in tandem with his ministrations, mindless and shameless in her earthshattering euphoria, into his scorched palm.
"Yes, baby, I know you're close," Gabe grunted, his voice pitched low—husky. "Cum for me."
In the next instance, Lucera came undone, detonating into a million sparks of dazzlingly blinding light as she rode out her spasms. Her screams of pleasure were suppressed as Gabe kissed her feverishly, a hand bracing her against the wall, for he knew she would be thoroughly and properly drained after the sensually explicit musical in which they had both just participated, their erotic harmonic blend scaling all the way to the sinful forbidden octaves of the heavens.
"I love you," he whispered into her ear and kissed the corner of her mouth swollen with the love of their making. His hand was still in her panties and hovered just above the mound of curls. "I always have."
Lucera's mind was still somewhere in earth's atmosphere, and her faculties were out of bounce for the time being. Somehow she managed to muster up enough coherence to respond.
"I love you," she panted breathlessly, "so much, and I was so very afraid you wouldn't return my feelings."
Gabe stroked her one final time and she trembled, then he withdrew himself, and Lucera felt bereft.
Before long, she was in his arms and they were moving at preternatural speed. In the blink of an eye, Gabe had seated her at an enormous dining table able to seat up to twenty-five persons before a plate of mouth-watering stew.