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4
The bed was enormous. A barren desert. A Sahara of white sheets rumpled like dunes stretching endlessly to the horizon. Their bodies had seldom touched accidentally in sleep and even less frequently when awake; but there had been another body there. Warmth. Sounds of breathing. Movement. In ways comforting, even if ungiving. And now that body was gone.
The grieving husband of a vanished wife--there were differing views as to whether she had left him or been killed or abducted--he could not be seen with other women. Every night he lay fitfully alone, a part of his mind even while asleep aware of what she must be doing and experiencing.
Panama is in the same time zone as the Eastern United States. Midnight for him in that empty bed was midnight for her at Blanco y Negro. Noon was noon.
Often during the day when he was in his office reading some legal document or in a boring meeting, he would think that she was probably sleeping, or in late afternoon waking to the reality that she would soon be spending another night in the loud, smoky club, another night swallowing come and piss, hands grabbing and twisting, flesh penetrated and plundered, another whore night to be followed by a few hours troubled sleep and another whore night and another without end.
He hoped they made her sleep on the same semen stained mattress on which she worked. He hoped they didn’t let her bathe before going to sleep. That the smells of the men remained on her body. Sweat--hers and theirs. Come. Piss. Always there in her nose and mind while she tired to sleep, he hoped, as fitfully as he.
He had taken some pictures of the club with his cell phone.
In his empty bed he stared at them, at the women serving men in various ways and imagined--no, knew--that Mary was there at that very moment, doing those very things. Perhaps on her knees with a stranger’s cock down her throat or up her ass. Or filled with two or three. And when they emptied in her, she would have to look for more. He masturbated furiously and frequently. Each time he woke. Often three or four times a night. It was the only way to release the constant tension.
He had not heard from Neptuno. There was no reason he should have. So all he had were his assumptions and imagination. She could be dead, for all he knew. Neptuno might have killed her, He was certainly capable of it. But Jeff didn’t think he had.
He waited as long as he could, wanting to see her fully broken into her new life. A month passed. Six weeks. Eight. Finally he could wait no longer and had his personal assistant make a reservation for Panama.
5
In a conference room high above Panama City, the meeting dragged. The problems he dealt with were essential to his client’s business, but never very interesting, and this afternoon his mind wandered.
He could see out over the Pacific Ocean and a few small islands scattered to the west. North to the Canal. The high span of the Bridge of the Americas, until recently the only bridge over the Canal, provided a reference point. At that distance he could not distinguish the building housing Blanco y Negro, but he knew where it was. Where she was. So close. And in a few hours...He willed the sun to speed up, to fast forward into the ocean. For bright sky to turn black.
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Beyond the stifling, humid night, he was sweating as he walked across the parking lot. He wiped his wet palms on his trousers.
As before the door opened as he neared, and the same big man said, “Hello, señor.”
The same noises rushed out at him, and the room was the same as he stepped in. And it wasn’t.
His eyes darted uncontrollably around, seeking that first sight of her, wondering what she would be doing or having done to her.
She was not there. At least not on the illuminated side. He peered toward the darkness, but could see nothing beyond the glowing ends of cigarettes and cigars.
“Light or dark, señor?”
“What? Oh, light, I guess.”
“Booth or table?”
“Booth.”
When he was seated on cracked red vinyl, he handed the bouncer a ten dollar bill and said, “Will you tell Neptuno that Jeff is here? Jeff of Jeff and Mary. Maria.”
“Maria?” The man stared at him appraisingly and laughed. “So you are that man. I will tell him. Maria, I think, will be busy tonight. Even more than…” His last words were lost as he turned away.
Across the heads of men sitting at tables and the naked bodies of women walking past, a tiny Asian woman, not Japanese or Chinese, probably Thai or Philippine, he thought, with a slim, hard, small breasted, black nippled, smooth shaven body, glistening with sweat, was lasciviously licking a baseball bat on the raised stage. From the imprint it was an authentic Louisville Slugger, more than half as long as she was tall. As he watched she took the knob at the narrow end into her pretty mouth and began to suck.
“Hello, Jeff. I was wondering when we would see you.”
Neptuno was dressed as impeccably as ever. Tonight in a white dinner jacket. He slipped into the booth opposite Jeff Healy.
“I trust you have been well.”
“Ye..yes.” Jeff heard his voice break, and although the last thing he wanted was small talk, “And you.”
The Panamanian laughed. “Never better. Partially thanks to you. Maria is a huge success. My biggest money maker. Newness is part. But also class. In that, she is in a class by herself.”
“You had no trouble with her, then?”
Again he laughed. “None I couldn’t handle. She is not stupid.”
Jeff could not wait. “Where is she?”
“You may not recognize her. At first. Many changes. Permanent changes.”
“Like what?”
“You’ll see. But not just yet. And tonight you will have to wait. We must keep the police happy in many ways, and Colonel Linares has taken a special interest in your wife--odd to think that she still is. His people called. When they do, I keep her for him first.”
“How long?”
White jacketed shoulders shrugged. “It varies. A few hours usually. Sometimes all night--but rarely. The other girls will keep you amused until Maria is free. And you can watch. Better though to do that from one of the tables. The Colonel sits in the corner booth. He is due soon.”
The slim Panamanian stood, and Jeff slipped from the half circle booth cushion and followed him to a table at the end of the room, where one of the girls hastened toward his negligently raised finger. A few low words, then Neptuno turned to Jeff. “She will bring you whatever you want. You see a girl, tell her you are my special friend. She’ll understand.”
A momentary wave seemed to move across the crowded room as the entrance door opened and a loud voice laughed. “There is the Colonel. I must greet him. I’ll see you later.”
The bar girl hovered.
“Tequila and tonic,” said Jeff, eager to turn and see the man who would be soon be using his wife.
“Yes, sir.”
Whores and patrons moved aside as a five man procession made its way to the corner booth, four were in two-toned brown police uniforms, two ahead, two behind a coal black man of average height whose wide breadth made him seem shorter, wearing a black pin-striped double-breasted suit, a white shirt, a brightly patterned tie, gleaming black shoes, and a wide smile of equally gleaming white teeth. A completely bald head glistened with beads of sweat and seemed to grow directly from thick shoulders. The man had almost no neck. Jowls rested on shirt collar. As he walked, his body strained against the fabric of the well-cut suit. Shoulders, thighs. A solid rectangular slab. Only when he slid into the booth, did noise and movement return to the room.
Not wanting to stare, Jeff glanced at the stage and saw that the Asian woman was now on her back fucking herself with the big end of the baseball bat. Her cunt lips were stretched around wood. He could hear Neptuno at the Colonel’s table. The four uniformed men remained standing. Two on either side.
A girl hurried over with a tray on which were four bottles of beer and a martini glass. For a moment Jeff thought...then no, it wasn’t Mary. She set the martini glass on the circular booth table for the Colonel and handed each of the uniformed men a beer.
Jeff had not noticed the girl return with his drink, but found a glass on his table. Taking a sip, he shifted his chair slightly, so he could see the corner booth without turning his head.
“Of course I have saved her for you, Colonel. She’ll be right out. Enjoy yourself.”
Thick lips opened wide to white teeth, purple gums and a tongue like a slice of liver. The black man gave a big laugh. He liked to laugh. And why not? Life was good. “I always do. Ah, there you are, my gringa slut.”
“Hello, Colonel.”
And there she was. Close enough to touch. Her back to him. Jeff Healey knew that voice, but as Neptuno had said, at first glance he would not have known the woman.
A mane of hair, several inches longer than he remembered, wilder and more crudely cut--no more $300 sessions at a salon--had been died silver. Not blond or even platinum, but silver. It fell to the middle of a bare back, obscuring something like the handle of a pitchfork tattooed on her skin. The lower part of a sea-green backless halter top dress clung to her ass, transparent enough so that he could distinguish the crack between her cheeks. It ended just below her crotch, exposing long, long bare legs. Thin soled shoes, 5‘ stiletto heels, the uppers composed of narrow imitation lizard skin laces that crisscrossed her foot and halfway up her calfs.
“Here, bitch,” the black man smiled and patted the cushion next to him.
As she slid into the booth, her dress momentarily rose to her waist, and Jeff saw a yellow bruise on her ass, before she nonchalantly pushed it down. Although her head was turned toward the Colonel, now that she was more or less facing him, Jeff saw that her throat was circled by a tattooed thick-linked chain. Another tattoo
a half inch wide of small intwined flowers ran around her fine left ankle. The chain was black; the flowers blue and red. One giant gold hoop earring dangled from her right earlobe; two from her left.
A thick black finger traced bright red lipsticked lips.
“And how many cocks have been in your whore mouth tonight?”
“None, Colonel. You know that Neptuno keeps me for you.”
The finger pushed between the lips, which obediently opened, then closed and sucked. Before they did Jeff caught a brief glimpse of a silver barbell stud piercing her tongue. He wondered what that will feel like against his cock?
“Then how many last night?”
A now glistening wet finger withdrew so she could answer.
“I don’t know.”
Laughter from the Colonel, followed after a moment by that from the four body guards.
“You don’t know how many cocks were in your mouth? How can a woman not know that? Even a slut like you? Guess, then.”
“How many were in my mouth or how many came? More laughter.
“Both.”
“Thirty. Maybe more. Maybe half came.”
“That’s a lot of come. I’m surprised you don’t get fat. But then we do exercise you. Since you’re clean now..” Broad fingers buried themselves in silver hair and pulled her face toward his. Thick purple-black lips opened, finer red lips opened, tongues met in a long sloppy kiss, during which a strong, stub fingered black hand closed on a breast and squeezed. Mary’s--no, Maria’s, Jeff realized. Modest Mary, who closed the bathroom door and lowered the blinds whenever she undressed was gone. Forever. As he had intended and caused. Maria’s body jerked with pain; but she could not free herself from the Colonel’s grip or lips, and through experience she knew that the quickest way to end pain was to accept it and be still, and she willed herself motionless.
Black hand opened. Black face pulled back. Maria gasped for air.
It had just started, but Jeff Healey’s cock was so hard it hurt. He could feel fluid leaking from the tip. He reached out and grabbed the wrist of the first woman who walked by. Perhaps harder than he meant. The tall Latina, wearing only a long skirt that rode low on her hips squealed. “You don’t need to be so rough.”
Jeff leered up at her full, firm breasts. “That’s not for you to say, is it? I’m a special friend of Neptuno.”
The woman smiled nervously.
Jeff pulled her toward him. Her breasts were at eye level. He flattened them against his face, then pulled back, licked the large dark aureole of the right breast, took it in his mouth and bit. A low moan came from the woman’s throat, but she did not pull away.
When he opened his mouth and moved back, both looked at the indented teeth marks. The woman grateful that there was no blood.
Jeff took the nipple between his thumb and forefinger and used it to put her to her knees. She did not need to be told to open his pants. Wetness. Warmth. A licking tongue. Suction. Jeff threw back his head. He was about to come, but didn’t want to yet. He reached down and grabbed black hair, held the whore’s head still. “Slower.”
She obeyed.
He had not noticed before that there was a mirror behind the bar in which he could see the corner booth. A reflected Maria was now standing on the table, unsteady on those too high heels. The Colonel was leaning back, staring at her legs. Jeff sensed her presence just behind him. So close that if he turned he could reach out and circle an ankle with his hand. And yet he couldn’t.
“I like your shoes,” said the Colonel. “But I think they are too loose. Wouldn’t want them to fall off when you get more active.” He laughed, and his bodyguards dutifully followed suit. “I’ll help you.”
In the mirror, while the Latino continued her slow head-bobbing ministrations, Jeff watched the black man lean forward and untie the laces at the back of Maria’s left calf, then pull hard. Narrow strips of imitation lizard skin cut into elegant foot and leg. Colonel Linares pulled harder and the strips cut deeper. “That’s better,” he grunted and tied the laces, before reaching for the other leg. White skin bulged between criss-crossed diamonds.
“Lose the dress.”
Jeff Healey turned. For this a reflection was not enough.
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