Dark Impulse

~I will give them paradise and eternal life, then I will deceive them into disobeying me so that I can torment them in the flames of hell forever~

*

ONE

I didn't press the recorded message button. I knew it would be Victor. I didn't want to hear from him ever again. I threw on a pair of jeans, t-shirt and athletic shoes. Grabbed a pack of cigarettes and shoved it in the side pocket of my sports jacket as I left my second floor apartment.

The smell of burning leaves was in the air. Commuters going home from work had already passed, leaving the streets empty. I lit a cigarette as I walked toward the campus. The library was practically empty The fluorescent lights of the glassed in foyer mimicked the light of the leaden sky.

The girl was there, sitting in a booth by the entrance door. She checked people leaving to make sure they didn't steal any anything. There wasn't much of anyone to check. I glanced at the book she was reading: A History of Prostitution.

I'd seen her before on campus, walking around or in the Sub. A nice dish-water blonde with blue eyes. Nice body. She was wearing a button-up-the-front blouse and a gray skirt.

"Considering a profession not in the curriculum?"

She smiled. "It's really interesting."

"Hmm."

"My name's Beth," she said, extending her hand.

"Vian," I said. "James Vian."

We shook hands. Hers was small, soft and warm.

I felt need spread throughout my loins like a drop of ink in a glass of water. There was no controlling it. Not that I tried.

"Are you doing research?"

"No, not tonight. Just dropped in to see if the library still has books." I paused. "One of the English professors is throwing a party on the east end."

"That's too far out. My boyfriend doesn't have a car."

"Hmm." Well that fucking ball didn't bounce. I thought I detected a little peevishness in her voice when she'd said, My boyfriend.

When I came back from the stacks I was surprised to see she was waiting for me. We walked out by the fountain next to the library and down some steps to the parking lot. She moved next to me, and I put my arm around her waist. We got in her beat up Honda, and she drove me to her apt. on 2nd Street near the campus. She parked up an alley in a gravel lot and led me up wooden back steps to her apt.

It was neat and tidy. The kitchen led in to a living room. A doorway to the right opened on a bedroom.

"I have to take a shower," she said.

I sat on a green couch facing the bedroom doorway. She stepped out of sight and, after a moment, walked passed the doorway toward the bathroom wearing a terrycloth robe. She glanced at me as she did so.

I smiled to myself. Obviously she was more than just a little peeved with her boyfriend and, foolishly, was going to use me to get back at him. What the fuck? She had a car even if he didn't?

I heard the sound of the shower came on.

I pulled the opaque curtain to the side. She had firm full tits, narrow waist and a modestly unshaven cunt. I stepped inside the stall and grabbed her. She gasped as I placed my hands behind her knees and lifted her up. The head of my cock brushed up against her cunt. She encircled my neck with her arms as I pushed into her forcing her back against the tiles. I bit her neck. I wanted to tear out the flesh. I bit down hard on the tits, pulling the nipples out between my clenched teeth.

Later, that evening we were in bed when I heard footsteps coming up the front indoor steps. Someone knocked. I felt her tense. A young man's voice called out her name and knocked several more times. I got on top of her. She humped against me like a wild animal.

I walked back to my apt. late that night.

My answering machine was flashing again. Leave me alone, Victor. Leave me alone.

I pressed the button. It wasn't Victor.

"James, when you get this message, come. The door is unlocked."

It was Miller.

I climbed into my ten year old Mustang and headed out to Glendale Estates, an upscale community, and pulled up in front of a townhouse of gray brick and green shudders next to Miller's BMW. The security guard passed by and waved. He had seen me before.

She was spread-eagled, naked, face down on her Queen-sized bed. Her arms and legs cuffed to the four corners. There was a white ball gag in her mouth smeared with bright red lip stick. A leather riding crop lay on her shapely ass. She looked at me, her hazel eyes wide with fear.

On the night table was a note with instructions. I read it carefully then lit it with a silver lighter and burned it in the ashtray. I undressed slowly. When she saw the size of my cock she shook her head with a pleading expression. Spittle oozed from her lips coating the white ball and dripping to the peach-colored silk sheet.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and ran my hands over her supple body. I grabbed a handful of her long black hair and pulled her head up until the back of it almost touched her shoulders. She whimpered, her buttocks quivering. A little more and I could've broken her neck. I was tempted.

I could whip her first then fuck her or I could fuck her first then whip her.

But there had to be blood.

I pressed a button on a console that started a video camera. The whole event was to be recorded.

I picked up the whip and flexed it. The leather made a crackling sound. I teased her with it, stroking her ass gently, pushing it over her cunt, then I started with light taps up and down her body. I loved the way her muscles bunched in anticipation; the way her ass cheeks drew tightly together. My strokes became harder; her hands balled into fists. Then harder, much harder. Her muffled cries louder. I worked on the tender soles of her feet until they turned beet red and the toes curled in. I hit the ass until large welts swelled up—red then purple then bleeding.

I was like a mad man swinging the crop as hard as I could. Sweat came from every pore, rivulets trickled down my heaving chest. I covered her whole body with welts until it looked like enemy territory laid waste by marauding troops. Gasping for breath, I climbed between her legs and shoved my cock in her ass. Her cheeks gripped me so tightly that I thought I'd never stop coming.

TWO

Harold worked as a night watchman at Dell Manor, a day care center for mentally handicapped children. I had met him in a bar after coming back from L.A. And we had hit it off from the first and gotten into the habit of hanging out together with a couple of girls he knew. Debra was a dark haired beauty with blue eyes and a sexy figure. She was up for anything anytime—a game player. Jean was a Plain Jane with auburn hair and brown eyes, never said much, always content just to follow.

Debra had an apt. on a tree lined lane near a cemetery. Jean lived with her aunt on a dinky side street.

Harold had car trouble, so I picked him up then the girls.

Debra's camera dangled from a leather strap around her neck. "Let's go to the cemetery," she said. "I want to take some pictures."

"Photos," Jean said.

Debra made a face.

I parked by the office, and we all got out and started walking up one of those winding avenues all large cemeteries have until we were the only ones about among hundreds and hundreds of tombstones and tombs. All about us hundreds of game players, once like us, locked forever in their dark coffins or marble vaults, forgotten.

Debra stepped off the pavement. "We go this way."

We followed her until we were in an isolated spot out of sight.

I knew what was coming.

Jean unbuttoned her blouse. Debra snapped some photos. Harold and I stripped.

I lay down face up.

"Get on top of him, Jean."

She straddled me and lowered herself until her cunt was poised just above my cock. I could feel her cunt hairs brush lightly against the head.

"Go on. Put it in."

She did, and her cunt was tight. Slowly, she slid down on me until I was fully in her and she was sitting straddle my hips. Her face and chest turned red. She raised her face to the sky with her eyes closed. She moved up and down on me, moaning softly. Then faster and faster until her small breasts were jiggling. "Oh, god; oh, god." She was wobbling about crazily. I could feel her cunt muscles squeezing around my cock like a velvet fist.

I pulled her forward onto my chest. Her mouth was against my ear, her moans and hot breath. Harold got behind her and eased his cock into her ass. Her body shuddered as he pounded into her.

When we were through, we got dressed and left her lying naked on the ground.

THREE

Driving back to my apartment, after dropping everyone off, I suddenly realized it would be left up to me to come back and pick her up. I'd just as soon leave her there to rot, but what the hell.

Groaning, I turned the car around. I should have had a scarecrow to guide me. All the avenues looked the same. I hadn't paid much attention. After a few tries, though, I found the right one. And it was a good thing I'd come back, for the dumb bitch was walking toward the office. I guess she hadn't planned on spending the whole night.

I scrolled down the window and told her to get in. I gave her my jacket. Seeing her naked again made me realize she wasn't as scrawny as I'd thought. She was tall and slender but like a runway model. She had small tits but they suited her. Her auburn hair usually hung in a ratty tangle halfway down her back but a good shampoo and brushing would have done wonders. Had she had more than a plain face she could have been striking. I guess.

I drove her to her aunt's. We went in to the back up an unpaved alley. Her aunt lived in an old shotgun with tall oak trees all about. She didn't want to walk naked into the house, so I went with her in order to get my jacket back.

Her aunt was passed out on a swaybacked sofa. A half a bottle of whiskey lay on the floor next to her. She was on her back, naked.

"You can fuck her, if you want. She won't wake up."

I spread her legs, forcing her knees up to her chest. She wasn't bad looking for a drunk. Maybe late thirties, early forties. She had red lipstick on, and light green eye shadow. The lipstick was streaked over one cheek. There were faint round scars on her breasts and belly, which was still taut like a young girl's.

"Sometimes men burn her with cigarettes. She has false teeth if you want to fuck her in the mouth."

I didn't expect her to be tight, but she was. The old sofa creaked with each thrust. It smelled moldy. I came fast, draining my tube. Jean lit a cigarette from the pack I had in my jacket and handed it to me.

I pressed it against her left breast until I smelled burning flesh, then the other one.

When I was dressed, Jean gave me my jacket, and, as I was leaving, settled down in front of the TV to watch a sitcom.

FOUR

She was sitting in the booth still reading about the history of prostitution.

"I broke up with my boyfriend," she said.

"Must've been tragic." She didn't catch the sarcasm.

She nodded.

"Do something for me."

"What?"

"Take off your clothes."

"What, you mean right now?"

I nodded.

"You're kidding. I can't take my clothes off here."

"Sure you can. All you have to do is scoot your stool back and crouch down in the booth. Nobody will see you."

"I can't."

"It's not crowded."

"Mrs. Wright is there behind the check out desk. She might see, and someone might come in or go out...I can't."

"Would you, if you knew no one would catch you?"

She nodded.

"Okay, then, take your panties off and give them to me. You can do that."

She bit her lip then eased up off the stool. She lifted up her skirt and tugged her panties down quickly, balled them up and sat back down, her face flushed. I took the panties and shoved them in my pocket.

"Now your bra," I said. I flicked open my switchblade and lay it on the counter before her. You can cut the straps with this."

She crunched down in the booth and unbuttoned the top of her blouse. She cut the bra straps, unhooked the front fastener and sat back up. She held the bra in her lap and when no one was watching handed it to me.

She lay in my arms.

"I was so afraid," she said.

"Afraid I was going to make you take all your clothes off?"

"Yes."

"You would have."

"I didn't think so...but now I'm not so sure. You make me feel powerless, excited. I've never felt that way before."

The phone rang. I picked up when I heard Victor's voice.

"It's about time Jamie. You shouldn't keep old Victor waiting on pins and needles to hear from you. How's it going? Still trying to keep the monster at bay?"

"I told you, Victor. I'm no longer in the game. Find somebody else."

"Oh, don't think I can't. You're not irreplaceable, you know, and I have bosses who expect me to maintain a tight ship--no loose cannons."

Victor paused. I waited for what was coming next.

"Why waste your talent, Jamie, doddering about when you can get paid for what you do naturally?"

"I like being free, Victor," I rubbed my hand over Beth's breasts and down her belly and stroked the triangle of pubic hair. She flinched.

"Fuck this shit, Jamie. I'm running a business. A very lucrative business with a very select and demanding clientele. I can't afford to let you or anyone else slide. I'm expecting you back in the fold, Jamie. And you don't want to disappoint me."

I hung the phone up when it went silent.

"Who was that?" Beth asked.

"Nobody," I said. "Just an old employer who wants me back."

"Hmm, you must have been good at what you did."

FIVE

It was raining when I woke up. I got dressed and picked up my umbrella. Listening to the rain bounce off it, I lit a cigarette. I liked to take long walks in the rain. It somehow soothed me. I headed downtown toward the river. Victor worried me. You don't cross him and stay healthy. Cars went by, their tires making swishing sounds on the wet streets. One, a gray Porsche, stopped next to me.

It was Carla. "Want a ride?"

"Why not?" I got in. It smelled of rich new Italian leather and Carla's French perfume.

She drove us to a upmarket hotel, The Towers, and gave the car over to an attendant. We entered an elevator and arrived at a top floor bar with a panoramic view of the smudged sky, the angular city and the smoky river.

"Something stirred not shaken," she said to the waiter.

Carla was a statuesque blonde with green eyes. She was wearing a skin tight, green leather, low-cut mini dress with straps and a stainless steel zipper running top to bottom in front.

Carla had a dark side, too.

"Victor wants you back?"

"I gather."

She lit a cigarette with a gold lighter. "Why not? What else can you do? People like you and I are made for one thing and one thing only. You can fight what you are, but in the end you'll give in. I know. I tried to break away, just like you, but what's the alternative really, to live like the common herd? That's all illusion. You're too evolved to want that. Besides you don't cross Victor."

"I'll make it."

"No...you won't. And how would you live even if you did?"

I had no answer.

"You see," she smiled. "You're just like me." She tapped her cigarette on the ashtray. "Impulsive." She brought the cigarette to her mouth and slowly inhaled, then let the smoke drift out through her nostrils. "Let's do something kinky."

"Out of curiosity, what?"

"A very rich man wants his young wife trained. We can do anything we want to her. Something perverted."

"Anything?" Despite myself, I felt the need growing inside me.

"Well...within limits. Nothing medieval you know. Fucking mostly. We tape it. That's all he's interested in. At least that's what he says."

"They're always afraid to say want they really want, aren't they?"

"Always." Carla gave me a speculative look. "She's very attractive. Well educated—though somewhat naive like most rich people. I've already made friends with her. I'll introduce you to her, then we will seduce her."

The waiter brought our drinks. Carla took a sip. "Shame we can't rip her guts out."

SIX

It was a warm fall day. The sun was out, and fluffy white clouds lingered in a brilliantly blue sky. Carla had the top down on her Porsche. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun; her beautiful face masked behind dark sunglasses. We cruised along by the river passing one mansion after another set back on their opulent lawns among majestic oaks behind pristine white fences.

Carla was dressed conservatively in a pearl white blouse open at the throat, a modest gray skirt and tan slip-ons. I wore a navy-blue polo shirt, gray slacks and brown loafers.

At our destination there was the obligatory long winding tree-lined driveway that ended at a two story rustic mansion all stone, glass and thick wood beams.

The young bride, Gina Corzalka, was around back on her knees in a greenhouse tending to a grouping of yellow orchids. She stood up when we entered smiling shyly. She was, as Carla had said, attractive. Short ashen hair framed an oval face that had a streak of dirt on one cheek. The eyes were soft gray. She stood about medium height and was wearing yellow pedal-pushers and a tan blouse unbuttoned on top revealing deep cleavage.

"Hi, Carla." She exclaimed with such enthusiasm that you knew she was sincere.

"This is my brother, James."

She took a cotton glove off and shook my hand. Charming.

"I think I already know you. Carla has told me all about you. Filming documentaries and all that. Though why you'd want to waste your time filming me I'll never know." She rubbed at the streak of dirt on her cheek.

Carla chuckled. "Don't ask. He never reveals his whys and what-fors." Carla patted me indulgently on the shoulder.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of an artist," Gina said, "I've got my orchids I'm developing for a hobby, but I really don't know much about them yet. I would really like to hear about your work, the places you've been. It must be exciting."

"Don't get him started or that'll be all he'll talk about," Carla said.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind."

Carla gave me a look.

"Anytime," I said.

"I know." Carla looked at me. "Why don't you film Gina puttering around in her greenhouse...as a kind of introduction, you know, then how 'bout we go out and paint the town red tonight?"

"Or green or blue," Gina said, then grinned awkwardly as if she thought she might have sounded foolish.

SEVEN

"Where's hubby?" I asked Carla while Gina was upstairs getting ready to go out.

"Burt? Somewhere in Mexico, I expect. He runs drugs into the country for the CIA with a fleet of trucks he owns. She, of course, doesn't know anything about it. Bryn Mawr. Pampered wealth and all that."

There were footsteps and Gina came down the stairs to where we were sitting by a massive stone fire place.

She was wearing a long-sleeved black mini dress with a Mandarin collar and black spiked heels.

"Nice," I said.

She smiled, and actually blushed.

"There's only room for two," Gina said, with dismay, when we came to the Porsche.

"Well then, let's go bats," Carla said. "You can sit on James' lap."

"I won't mind," I said.

Gina smiled.

Carla dropped me off at my place to change while she drove off with Gina to the hotel.

When they returned, Carla was wearing the green leather mini dress.

I was wearing a loose fitting, purple shirt with black leather pants.

The dance floor of the Midnight Lounge was packed. The music was a canny mixture of Latino, rock and progressive jazz. The ceiling pulsed with a blue light while the dance floor lay in an anonymous twilight. One could fuck there and not be noticed.

Men asked Carla to dance, since I was sitting closer to Gina, but she refused them.

"I danced a few with Gina, holding her close, my hands on her ass. Then Carla danced with her. We plied her with drink until she was woozy. Then we drove her back home. In the glow of the dashboard, I pulled down the zipper of her dress and kissed her back. I felt her body tremble. She lay her head on my shoulder moaning softly. When we got there, Carla took the camera out of the trunk. Gina leaned against me as I took her up the stairs to her bedroom. Carla circled us like the paparazzi constantly filming.