Mia's Journey: An Erotic Thriller (2 page)

“In the middle of the journey of my life I came to

myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.”

Dante Alighieri

Chapter 2

The man sat alone in a well-furnished den, hitting one note, a G flat, on a Yamaha grand piano, over and over.

He was slumped against the keyboard, his elbow resting against the end corner. In the reflective shine of the highly polished black wood, he could see his sideburns turning gray. His head was cocked as he listened to the same note again and again.
Something is wrong;
he thought to himself.
Is it me, or is that note off?
He hit the key a few more times.
That note is definitely off,
he thought.

A little boy, hearing the sound, came and stood at the doorway, silently watching his father. His two-front teeth had just fallen out, giving him a gap-tooth smile. He walked over and casually put his elbow on his father’s shoulder.

“That note sounds funny, Daddy.”

“Think so, Big Bear?”

“I think so. Hit it a few more times.”

The man hit the note three more times; head cocked, looking at the little boy.

“What do you think?”

“It’s off.”

“I think so too. What do you think we ought to do about it?”

“What can we do about it?”

“Nothing. Right now anyway.”

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“You’re a smart kid, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, totally secure in the love of his father.

“Play me a song, Daddy?”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Some Rock and Roll.”

The father’s right hand reached out and hit the high note on the right side of the keyboard with his little finger, held it, then switched over to his middle finger. In one fast, smooth motion drew his finger all the way up the keyboard to the left-hand bass notes, then all the way back down to the right high notes again.

All ten fingers of his left and right hand moving rapidly on the keys in the high note section. It sounded like hard rain tinkling on a tin roof as he punched into the song’s intro. The Yamaha boomed, like a wild animal released from its cage. He chose an early Rock and Roll song.

“Sing, Daddy.”

“Darkness is callin’ now,

I’m havin’ trouble seeing.

I’ve never been able to tell her,

how I’m feelin’.

From out of the darkness,

she walks like a dream.

She makes me feel crazy,

she makes me wanna scream.”

The little boy starts moving perfectly to the beat; eyes closed, snapping his fingers in time to the music as he slips out of his body, and his musical Muse takes over. He starts dancing to the music.

“Nothin’ gonna help you,

from a love that’s blind.

It’ll cause you to stumble,

you’ll doubt your own mind.”

“It’s on the light side, baby, oh yeah.”

The father comes off the piano stool, and both father and son start dancing about the room, the piano silent, but the music filling their heads all the same.

“Listen close, right here…The sax is coming.”

“I can hear it, Daddy.”

A high-pitched tenor sax fills both their heads at the same time in the silent room, going into a two minute long solo.

The man slips back onto the stool and picks up right at the moment the sax fades out, both hands slamming the keyboard so hard and loud, the windows rattle.

“I need some beat. Gimme some beat, Big Bear.”

The little boy steps up to the table, head cocked, looking at his father.

“OK, take her on down, Big Bear. Right…Now!”

The boy starts a tattoo drum beat with his fingers completely in time with his father’s piano. The Man kicks the song into high gear.

“Darkness is callin’ now,

I’m havin’ trouble seeing.

I’ve never been able to tell her,

how I’m feelin’.

From out of the darkness,

she walks like a dream.

She makes me feel crazy,

she makes me wanna scream.”

“Nothin’ gonna help you,

from a love that’s blind.

It’ll cause you to stumble,

you’ll doubt your own mind.”

“It’s on the light side, baby, oh yeah.

You’ll find me on the light side, baby, oh yeah.”

The man hit the last note with his little finger, and the chord faded to silence. The boy and his father stood looking at each other, smiling goofily.

“I love it when that happens,” said the little boy.

“I do too,” said the man.

A woman stood watching from another room, not understanding their connection and slightly jealous of it. She shook her head, gathered up her purse, and left the house, not saying a word of goodbye. The door shut quietly.

The father and son, didn’t notice, they could still hear the music playing their heads.

“The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Chapter 3

“Hey Trailer Trash, are you about ready?” yelled Mia’s Husband, standing near the door.

Mia had been putting the final brushes of base around the side of her head where there was bruising, so it wouldn’t show at work.

Her husband, a rising star in a local law firm, glanced at his Rolex.
That little cunt was going to make him late,
he thought.

“I’ll give you until the count of three, Mia. Then you’ll have another bruise you can spend all day trying to cover up. One…two…”

“I’m here,” said Mia, coming into the room, standing on one foot, trying to put her black pumps on.

“I don’t get it. You
KNOW
it takes you a certain amount of time to do something, why can’t you get up early enough to take care of it? Lazy, cunt. Come on, let’s go. I’m already late because of you.” He stuffed Mia’s coat into her arms and shoved her out the door.

The lawyer locked the house, slapped a wide smile on his face for the world to see, and walked his wife to the Lexus, holding her elbow, like the loving husband he was. A neighbor was getting their mail out of the mailbox across the street.

“How you doing, Jack,” he waved, “how about them Cyclones, uh?”

“They’re unstoppable this year, for sure,” yelled the neighbor back.

“We getting together for a game and some beer this weekend?”

“Sure. Your house or mine?”

“Let’s do yours. We did mine last weekend.”

“No problem. See at one p.m. on Saturday.”

Mia kept her eyes down, and waited for her husband to open the door for her. He gave a jaunty wave goodbye, opened the car door, and pushed her into the front seat.

Their neighborhood was upper-middle class, as befitted a young attorney on the way up. Most of his neighbors either worked at the banks or insurance companies downtown as upper or mid-level executives. It was a well-polished street, a family neighborhood, of white picket fences, and well trimmed lawns.

The lawyer backed down their driveway, gave a final toot on the horn at his neighbor, and they were on their way.

The lawyer dropped Mia off at the school entrance. “I’ll be here to pick you up at three forty-five. Don’t make me wait on you again, Mia.”

“I won’t,” she said. He watched her getting out of the car, absently thinking he might rape her ass later tonight if the mood struck him. Something about the thought of hearing her cries of pain and wiping the blood off his cock after always got him in the mood.

He watched as she walked toward the building. One of the male teachers was also on his way in, smiled, and opened the door for her. She smiled thank you, kept her eyes down, and kept walking.

Mia walked into the office and checked her mail cubby. She wasn’t full time, so she didn’t get benefits like the regular staff. While the staff was polite and professional, they treated her as an afterthought.

She saw a note from the principal to come to his office after her last period class. Fear immediately thumped, falling like a large rock into her stomach. What had she done wrong?

Mia walked into the classroom slowly. Dread creeping up her throat the whole way. The kids were loud and rambunctious. Since she was a substitute, they knew they didn’t have to listen to her.

She walked into class and on the secret wavelength that kids shared, they took one look at her, and knew today was going to be a vacation. She tried calling them to order and taking attendance. Most of the boys ignored her. The girls just looked at her with feminine disdain.

Mia finished her day at three o’clock and walked slowly to the principal’s office. The dread had been building all day. She knew she was going to get fired. She also knew that would mean a beating from her husband. She noticed the blinds were drawn over the office windows, not a good sign. She knocked softly, and waited for a response.

“Come on in, Mia,” came the reply. He sounded friendly, so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all.

Mia entered. There were books and papers piled on both the visitor’s chairs, so she had nowhere to sit.

“Sorry, it’s been a busy day,” he said. He came from behind the desk, smiling, and leaned against the edge.

“You wanted to see me?” Eyes down.

“Yes, I did. I hear you’ve been having a hard time controlling some of the kids in your class.”

“No. They’re just kids being kids.”

“Well sometimes kids need to be punished. Especially, the girls. Girls need a nice hard spank every now and then.”

“Excuse me, Sir? You know I can’t lay a hand on a child.”

“You’re absolutely right, Mia. However, I can.”

He grabbed Mia’s wrist and pinned it behind her back. Using the leverage of his weight, he angled the arm up her shoulder until Mia was forced downward. He then steered her toward the desk and bent her over it.

“No, don’t…please.”

He pulled her dress up and with his other hand started laying hard smacks against her backside, on her small, smooth ass. One slap after another fell, each one getting more vicious.

Mia just lay there and took it. Eyes closed, trying not to sob so she wouldn’t make him even angrier. She could feel her ass getting red, and the burning stings from his hand.

When his hand started to hurt, he stopped, shook the pain out, and then he stuck his fingers into her panties, and probed into her vagina.

“Like I said, the little bitches like a nice hard spank occasionally.” He released her and pulled her up, taking the opportunity to feel her tits, and roughly pinch her nipples.

“Be a good little bitch and get out of her before I make you suck my cock.”

Mia hurried out of his office, wiping her eyes, hoping no one saw her.

Mia’s husband was outside in the parking lot waiting for her, just like he said he would be when his cell phone rang.

“Yeah?”

“You’re right. A good beating does make her pussy wet,” said the principal. “I might like to sample that some more.”

“She’s a submissive little slut, isn’t she?”

“What else does she do?”

“Whatever you want…I’ll let you beat the shit out of her for three hundred,” said the lawyer, watching Mia walk towards the car with her eyes down, snapping the cell phone shut.

“Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate.”

Germaine Greer

Chapter 4

The man walked downstairs to his home office, with a cup of coffee in his hand and flipped on the computer. He opened his email and casually clicked through the business correspondence. He had a number of Internet businesses he made money from, so he could take care of his entire life by computer. There wasn’t very much of interest and no pressing customer orders that needed his attention.

He checked his online planners, and he was still well ahead of the curve. There was nothing pressing he needed to do that he hadn’t planned for.

He had written eight books on alternative energy subjects, some of which were quite well received. As such, he usually had a number of speaking engagements as well as consulting work waiting for him if he wanted it. He had just completed his first fiction novel as well and was going over the final edits with his editor.

He was also working on a sequel to the one he just finished. He sat down to write. He had a goal of writing one thousand words a day. It always pleased him when his Muse sat down with him and he could write more.

He picked up his plot outline, mentally adjusted to where he was, and started writing. He looked up again, and two hours had passed. He had no conception of where the time went.

To him, it felt like no more than ten minutes. He noted the word count and saw he wrote three thousand words. It was ten-thirty in the morning, and he was done for the day with a clear conscience.

He sat back in his chair, and thought about what to do for the rest of the day. He had a MeetUp Group meeting at three p.m.

A few months before, he had started “Meetup group” in his town for fiction writers. He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe it was just the loneliness. Seven years of full time writing on your own will do it to you. Living completely inside his head, day in and day out. He needed to get out more.

The Meetup group was fun. No more than a couple of people showed up at any given time. But he knew it wasn’t something he really wanted to continue after the three-month trial period.

There was an email reminder in his inbox saying he had to renew his dues, or they would cancel the group. Instead, he went to his account and canceled it himself. He would still attend today. After all, it was a bakery, and he liked the fresh bagels.

The sound on his computer went off alerting him to a new email. He looked at the “From” line, but didn’t recognize the name. He felt something, but couldn’t place it, so he dismissed it. He clicked on the email.

I would appreciate any advice or feedback you have to give. I have no writer friends, and I am very new to all of this.

I wrote a romance novel and have just started a second. I have amassed a small pile of rejection letters, so I am thinking about self- publishing.

I am unsure and nervous about it, however, since I don’t know anyone who has done it before.

Thanks,

Mia

He thought about inviting her to the final MeetUp Group, but she had sent the email through them, so she must already know about it. It didn’t appear like she was going to go.

Nor did he feel like taking on another angst-ridden, insecure puppy who didn’t know the difference between “your” and “you’re.” He stared at the writing again. He couldn’t tell how old she was. Even so, she wasn’t a puppy.

There was a certain style and grace to her words. He thought he could hear music in them. And there was that nagging feeling again. A soft voice way in the back of his mind. What was the voice trying to say? He decided to answer.

Hello Mia,

Self-publishing is easy once you get the hang of it. About the best place is (Amazon) for paperbacks, and Kindle KDP (Amazon)for e-books.

It is like anything else; it has its pros and cons. The biggest thing to consider with self-publishing is all the hats you’ll have to wear yourself.

That means, editor, proofreader, formatter, and most important, marketer, of your work. If you’re willing to learn those things, then self-publishing is the way to go. If you’re “technologically challenged,” then it might not be.

I hope this helps,

He hit the send button and figured that would be the last he would ever hear from her.