Contrasts (29 page)

Darnell had trouble finding his voice. He swallowed several times. When he spoke it was in halting phrases. He avoided glancing at Ann. “Like I told you uncle we was out drinkin at a place I know. It’s off Bedford Avenue, the J-Z Club. She didn’t drink much, but she kept buyin drinks for me. We went to her place where she wanted her husband to watch her give me a blow job. Then we went back to my place. When we got back she started sayin things like since I was the first to make her cum I should be the first to fuck her ass. She said she was tired of that plug bein there and that she didn’t want to give up her virgin ass to some old rich guy you picked. I told her we had to follow the rules. She got naked and climbed on the bed. She said for me to fuck her like she was a bitch in heat.”

Watts interrupted, “She said that? She said to fuck her like she was a bitch in heat?”

“Yes sir. That’s what she said. I took off my jeans and got up on the bed with her. She got in the doggie position, you know...her head down her ass up. I was drunk so I didn’t notice the plug was missin. When I was about to stick my dick in her pussy she reached back and grabbed it hard and pushed the head into her cunt then she quick pushed back so I was all the ways in her ass. She had already squirted in the KY, but I hadn’t noticed. She done it. She done it herself!”

Watts leaned toward him, “I think you’re a lying piece of shit,” he said.

He turned to Ann. “Now, Mrs. Gardner, tell us what really happened.”

She looked across at Darnell. Tears had welled up in his eyes. He was visibly trembling. “What Darnell told you is the truth,” she said. Everyone, even the guards and Rona looked startled.

Watts rose halfway out of his chair and then sat down. He glared at Ann, “Are you telling me that you actually grabbed his cock and pushed it in your asshole?”

Ann looked at him steadily, her voice even, “Yes sir. It happened just the way he described it.”

He tapped the cardboard box, “He’s got nothing on you. It’s all here in this box. There’s nothing he can do to you.”

“I know. But I’d grown very fond of him and as he said, he was the first man to ever give me an orgasm. I...I....wanted him to have it as sort of...sort of a payment for that.”

She glanced at Darnell. His eyes were wide, his mouth hung open. She looked back at Watts, “I got him drunk on purpose because I knew he would refuse. It wasn’t an impulsive thing. I’d planned it.”

Watts stood up, his face dark purple with rage. He gestured to another guard by the far wall who lowered the ropes and cuffs over the stage. Without being told, Ann walked over to the stage and facing the others stripped. She felt as if her legs wouldn’t support her and as if she might vomit. She lifted her arms to be cuffed. The guard pulled on the ropes until just her toes touched the stage. Rona grinned as she strode forward holding the riding crop. She held it up to Ann’s lips. “Kiss it, bitch,” she said. Ann pressed her lips to the whip handle. Rona put two fingers under Ann’s chin and lifted her head, “I’m gonna enjoy this,” she whispered.

She looked over at Watts. “Twenty,” he said.

Rona drew her arm back and struck with all the force she could. The loud crack of the whip came first followed a half second later by Ann’s scream. Again and again the whip whistled and cracked. The purple welts across Ann’s back and ass rose and seeped blood. After the fifth, Ann couldn’t scream any longer. She grunted and her body twitched spasmodically. After the twelfth, she hung limp and unconscious from the cuffs.

Watts held up his hand, “Enough,” he said. The guard lowered the ropes. Ann lay, unmoving, on the floor. Watts motioned to one of the other guards who crossed to Ann and waved smelling salts under her nose. She opened her eyes. The guard looked over at Watts who nodded, “Take her to the clinic. They know what to do.” She was placed on a stretcher, covered with a blanket, and taken on the private elevator to the garage and from there to Watts’ clinic.

Luckily she healed quickly, but it was a full week before she was well enough to leave. When she returned home, Paul and all of his clothes were gone. There were over a hundred email messages, at least thirty were from Danny. She had his cell phone and estimated that it was about eight o’clock in California. They spoke for several hours. He never asked why she hadn’t answered his emails.

The day after her release from the clinic she was again summoned to Watts’ office. Apprehensive, but less fearful, she once more sat before him. He smiled across at her.

“I owe you a most sincere apology and more than I can ever repay,” he said. Before she could speak he raised his hand. “Why you lied to protect that cowardly little bastard I’ll never understand. I should have known, but you were so convincing.”

“How did you....”

He interrupted, “The day after your punishment I was still suspicious so I sent my men back to his place. Of course, by then he was gone. He knew I’d eventually discover the truth. He had stolen the key to one of my strongboxes and knew where they were kept. He took two hundred thousand and fled the country. Of course, I could find him and have him killed.” He paused and looked down at his desk. “I don’t want to know where he is.” He looked across at her and shook his head. “He is blood.” He shifted in his chair, “I’ve let him know through other sources that should he ever come back to the states whether I’m still living or not, he won’t last twelve hours. I’m sure he knows I mean that.” He paused. “We’ve seen the last of Darnell.” He leaned across the desk, “But why did you take the blame?”

“I’m not quite sure,” she said. “I had grown fond of him....well not fond exactly, but there was some kind of attraction....a perverse attraction I think. He...he...excited me in a way that no one ever had.” She felt herself blushing. “In addition I didn’t think you’d kill me, but I felt you very well might kill him.”

“I don’t understand your attraction to that ugly little coward, but I’ve learned there’s very little we know about what Hitchcock called our “under nature”, our darker selves. That applies especially to matters related to sex.”

“How did you find out that he raped me?”

“When my men returned to Darnell’s a scared guy came out of the apartment across the hall bringing with him a spreader bar. He said he’d loaned it to Darnell and that same night heard screams coming from Darnell’s apartment. He was going to call the police, but since the spreader bar belonged to him, he didn’t. Darnell bragged to him the next day that he had raped the ass of his white teacher.”

“Darnell just couldn’t stop, could he?”

“Yes, he’s a little piece of shit who wants to be me.” He sat back observing her for several moments. “While you were recovering in the clinic, I managed to get you divorced from Paul. He was grateful. I know a judge in Vegas who was able to do it without either of you going there.” He shoved an envelope across the table. “Your papers. I’m also releasing you from your contract. It’s the least I can do.”

She smiled and put the envelope in her purse. “Thank you, Master....I mean thank you, Mr. Watts.”

“Changing the subject,” he smiled back at her. “While you were recovering, Danny Morgan was instrumental in beating the Forty Niners. This Sunday it’s San Diego.”

“I know. I’ll be watching.”

“I’ve spoken to him a few times since he’s been out there. I want to talk football, but he wants to talk Ann Gardner.”

She felt the color rise to her cheeks. “We’ve spoken, too.”

“I’m too old and too mean to be playing matchmaker, but it seems to me you two might be a pretty good one. Lots in common.”

“What about contrasts. Isn’t it contrasts that give life it’s energy, it’s drama, it’s excitement?”

He chuckled, “Yes, I still believe that. However, there are exceptions. Besides, in your case there’s still black and white.”

“Yes,” she laughed, “and thank God for that.”

Chapter Twelve

Six years have passed. Both Ann and Danny are thirty. They married right after Danny took the Giants to the super bowl soon after their first date. They lost to the Pittsburgh Steelers, but during the next five years went back three times and won twice.

Danny became one of the highest paid players in the NFL.

He and Ann started a foundation for kids with sickle cell anemia. They bought a new seven room condo not far from Watts’. They also bought a beach house on Fire Island with a pool and ocean views. Danny planned on playing just one more year. There was a top management job with the Giants waiting for him when he retired.

Paul had been right. After six months, Rona gave him to an acquaintance. The woman was black, seventy years old and very wealthy. She’d married three times; once to a famous musician, once to a semi-famous actor, and finally to a very clever stock broker. Each died rather happy and graciously left her a rich widow. She owned a small estate on Long Island. Paul became her “boy toy” and delighted in serving her in all manner of unusual ways. He gave his interest in the trucking company to Ann so that she always had her own source of income. With Watts’ help and under the direction of John Albertson the company continued to grow and was very successful.

Watts had been right. Ann and Danny discovered that they had much in common. They enjoyed each other’s company. When the first flames of passion died down as they must, the flames continued to burn at a lower but steadier temperature. Although Danny had many opportunities to sleep with numerous glamorous women and cute cheerleaders, he didn’t. He was faithful to Ann. She was frequently hit on by football players and others in the sports world, mostly black guys, but she never cheated. After each football season, they attended Sunday mass regularly. Ann was also very active supporting various Catholic charities. She and Danny made the lives of her grandparents very comfortable until the two old folks passed away.

Five years after their marriage, Watts died of a massive heart attack. He had given them a splendid wedding at the most expensive facility in New York. He never missed one of Danny’s games and would often fly Ann on his private jet to the away games.

He never again mentioned Darnell.

In late August, six years after Ann and Danny were married; the Giants were to play one of their pre-season games in Mexico City. Many of the wives of the players accompanied their husbands on the plane charted by the Giants organization. It promised to be a festive week. They were booked into the Four Season Hotel, one of Mexico City’s most luxurious. They arrived on Wednesday. A parade was held for them that afternoon and a dinner dance that evening. The team practiced on Thursday and Friday afternoon. Friday evening Danny was scheduled to visit a sickle cell hospital on the outskirts of town and then attend a meeting of prospective donors. He wouldn’t be back at the hotel until around midnight.

Late in the afternoon, just after Ann had come from the pool, the phone rang. She thought it was Danny calling to say he’d arrived at the hospital. She picked up the phone.

“Just wonderin if you is still my bitch.”

“Darnell?”

“You ever been anyone else’s bitch?” His voice was deeper, but still laced with the old arrogance.

“No. no...I haven’t. How did you...”

“It’s been in all the fuckin papers. Your dumbass football hero husband and all.”

“Well, Darnell,” she began

Again he interrupted. “No words of affection?”

She felt the tingling sensation in her stomach. “No. That was over a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Your famous husband givin a speech down in San Salvador tonight?”

“How did you know?”

“I read the fuckin papers.” There was a pause, “So how about you and me havin a drink at my bar, just for old time’s sake.”

“You have a bar?”

“I done good. Came down here with some of Uncle Watts’ money and bought a bar Got apartment above. Doin ok. We sell some food, nachos and burgers mostly. It’s a local place. Just tell the taxi guy to take you to 904 Vanilla, the Rio Bar and Grill. I still got the same cell phone number in case you get lost. You kept it, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s in my iPhone book.”

“Look.”

She pressed some numbers on her iPhone. “Yes, it’s here, 505-872-9001.”

“That’s the one. I didn’t think you’d fuckin delete it.”

There was the old familiar warmth washing over her body and draining down to moisten her slit. She fought against it, “Darnell, after what you did you have a lot of nerve to think I’d...I’d...”

“Hey it’s just handshake and a drink between old friends. We’ll probably never see each other again, at least not in this fuckin world.”

“I...I...can’t. I just can’t.”

“You got anything else to do tonight?”

“No.”

“You just gonna sit in a hotel room and look at fuckin Mexican television?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to see how good I done. Want you to see my nice little bar. I even learned how to speak Mexican Spanish. You’d be proud.”

“Give me the address again so I can write it down.”

As soon as she hung up she regretted what she’d agreed to. She sat for awhile on the bed trying to decide how to get out of it. She finally concluded that getting out of it was easy. She just wouldn’t go. She’d drop down to the hotel bar, have a drink or two, chat with some of the other players’ wives, come back to the room and go to bed. Easy.

An hour later she was in a cab on Vanilla Street looking for the Rio Bar and Grill. It was in the middle of the block, a small stucco building with a red tile roof, just like ten thousand others in the Mexico City neighborhoods. The neon sign blinked off and on. She’d worn a peasant blouse and a flared colorful Mexican skirt and open toed heels. She had become so comfortable without undergarments she only wore them during cold weather. She hadn’t even packed a bra and panties for this trip. She had nothing on under her blouse and skirt. Before getting out of the cab, she looked in her small mirror and spread a fresh coating of gloss over her bright red lips.

Darnell had put on a little weight, but otherwise was much as she’d expected him to be. His hair had grown longer and was braided in dreadlocks. He wore a crisp white shirt open at the neck, brown kakis, and flip-flops. She noticed he’d had a recent pedicure. There were only six stools at the bar, four booths along the window wall and two small tables in the center of the room. The place seemed cozy and clean. A young boyish looking Mexican stood behind the bar, but otherwise it was empty. Darnell got off one of the end stools and came toward her, “It’s early,” he said. “I get a late crowd.”