One Safe Place (14 page)

Music filled the room; the group Cameo's jam “Candy” blasted through the stereo. Gabrielle danced out of the bathroom; she had on a diving wetsuit, and was fixing her hair to go under a swim cap. She swung her rather big behind in a sexy, funky motion. Her curvaceous body drew Psalms' eye, and he bopped his head to the music and her grooving. She danced for him, inciting his blood to flow. He wanted to tear the wetsuit off her body—quickly.

Under the wetsuit, her nipples protruded. He walked over to her, and squatted just far enough as she unzipped the suit, giving him access to her breasts. He placed his lips on her nipples and sucked hard. She combed her fingers through his cropped, wavy hair. He stepped back and licked his lips. She ran her fingers over his thick, wide lips, and leaned in and kissed, in slow motion, the wine-stain birthmark under his left eye. They both stepped back, and their stares ventured into imagining their bodies pounding each other. She loved the way he looked at her as if he were about to take her down to the floor and sex her up. Gabrielle wanted no foreplay, just the forced hardness of his thickness slowly, ever so slowly, inside her wetness. His eyes mesmerized her as he gazed. She wanted his hardness to pin her down and send slight aching pain with pleasure between her thick thighs. He wouldn't hurt her unless she wanted him to, but the ardent look he gave her made her wet. The diving wetsuit was to keep water out, but it also kept moisture in. Her wetness made a sweet mess inside the suit.

Psalms slowly dropped his pants, and teased her eyes by turning to the side and ripping off his boxers.

He laughed softly. “It's just underwear.”

“Hey, baby, coming off your ass, they're not just underwear, honey.
How about curtains to doors number one, two, and three?” She sucked her bottom lip and smiled.

Psalms changed in to a wetsuit. They were going for a midnight swim at 2 a.m. The Lake Washington water was cool, but not unbearable if wearing a wetsuit.

Nighttime swimming was something the two of them had done even before they had left the government. Psalms and Gabrielle had swum in parts of the Rhine River in Switzerland and France, and in the waters off the shores of Tahiti, and the clear, blue waters of the southern Caribbean near St. Lucia. Both were avid swimmers. He grew up swimming in Northwest waters, and she swimming off the shores of Galveston, Texas, and sometimes in the dangerous bayous. She had no fear of the water.

The two of them had swum together in the Red Sea, the Nile River, and the Panama Canal. While backpacking in the Grand Canyon, they had swum against the current. They had often made love in the water, on top and under, and mostly at night.

It was going to be one of those nights. Psalms had waited to make sure that Gabrielle didn't have too much to drink. She had a tendency to drink too much even though she never appeared drunk; she simply sipped all day, on most days.

From her days of climbing the political ladder, and as the Secretary of State, she often had to drink with the good ol' boys. It was not something that she had done prior to her college days, but it had become a habit. She enjoyed taking the edge off after making decisions.

She and Psalms had a few talks about it, but he never forced her to quit or told her he wanted her to. He wanted her to question herself about her behavior. He knew people didn't quit for others. People stopped a certain behavior when they were ready or when
a certain event in their life forced them to. He also thought it was her way of dealing with the stress of the decisions that she had made and the outcomes of her past work.

“Assessments and conclusions, leading to declarations to do what had to be done and then awaiting the results of the end game, only the game never ends,” she'd said on the Sunday talk show circuit, along with, “I understand my dealings with issues and the decisions of any administration, is people lose and have lost their lives. But, their sacrifice is, was, and will always be, for the greater good of our country.”

Psalms imagined how Gabrielle grappled with the thought of whether or not she did the right thing. For the most part, he had left her alone when it came to her drinking. The woman had been the youngest Secretary of State of the United States and a woman—a black woman. How she chose to release tension, he felt, wasn't his call.

• • •

The two of them made it to the deep water side of the docked ferry. With large swim fins on, they made it down the ladder into the water. Their wetsuits help to insulate them from the chilled lake water, and they had headlight bands on their heads, water goggles, and snorkels to assist their night swim.

They swam about twenty meters from the boat and dove under the water. Underneath, their bodies met and they held tight, squeezing to the point the wetsuits squeaked even under the water. While under, they kissed with the last of their breath while tussling like spawning fish swimming upstream. Their hands roamed as their tongues invaded each other's mouths while holding their breath in the dark. It was a sensation that made them boil in the cool water.

Surrounded by wetness and darkness, heads popped out of the water, gasping for breath. They panted as their large swim fins made it easy to stay afloat. Psalms reached for the waistband of Gabrielle's wetsuit and found the area that had a custom-made opening. He could open the crotch area of her wetsuit. The cold water concentrated blood in her already thick pussy lips, making them swell.

Hovering and kissing passionately in the middle of the dark water, twenty meters from the boat at 2 a.m., the lovers played underwater in the darkness. Lights from the shore and stars above put them on a stage that no one could see, but they were making love for everything underneath them.

His thick fingers found her inner wetness; it was hot in the middle of the cold water. His finger pushed past her full pussy lips. He felt her contract as if sucking on his finger. He started sliding his finger in and out of her. She dipped her head underneath the water, but he could hear her humming, groaning. Bubbles floated up as his finger firmly pushed inside her. Psalms' finger stroked in and out of her hot wetness. He dragged his finger up to her clit; she liked it when his finger flicked back and forth.

Her head popped out of the water as she gasped for air. She liked that feeling of running out of air and knowing she was safe with Psalms, and feeling the comfort of his body pressed against hers. They drifted closer to the boat and the underwater lights started to highlight them. Their shiny wetsuits, leather-smooth, reflected the changing colors of the boat's underwater lights. Their swim fins, flipping smoothly under the water, made the water around them pretty and kept them afloat.

As they kissed above the water, he took his other hand and slid his finger down her backside and down between the crease of her
ass. Psalms stopped over the opening of her ass. The tip of his finger pushed inside, and while his middle finger slid inside her pussy, his thumb played with her clit. He began to work her into a frenzy underneath the water. Gabrielle made loud, senseless sounds. She sank back beneath the water. As he had many times before, Psalms held her body so she could not come up for air unless he let her. His fingers worked and worked in and out of her ass, her pussy, and on her clit all in rhythm, massaging, caressing around and around until bubbles floated up, and her body trembled and jerked. Psalms pulled her up, and she sucked in a massive gulp of air. She laid her head on his shoulder, trembling from the lasting aftershock from coming so hard, having an orgasm while not being able to breathe. She loved that erotic-asphyxiation feeling of running out of air while having an orgasm. Often she begged for his hands to hold her throat closed, not to the point of hurting, but just so the carotid arteries of her neck would aid in her pleasure. With strangulation or the sudden loss of oxygen to the brain, the buildup of carbon dioxide increased the feelings of overexcitement, lightheadedness, and erotic pleasure, heightening orgasmic sensations. She trusted him, knowing Psalms understood the limit, and he could revive her; it helped to get her off into intense spasms.

Still floating, he flipped his swimming fins a little harder and held her as she recovered. As she started to move, using her own fins to stay afloat, he opened the crotch area of his wetsuit. His dick was hard and straight up like a pointed periscope.

Gabrielle went back under the water and sucked his hardness. He lay his head back and felt her sucking him good, and the fact he couldn't see her added to the pleasure. She couldn't do it for long, but she wanted to give him pleasure and not leave her man hanging. They swam back to the boat. Alongside the boat, she
held on to the ladder as he moved behind and over the top of her ass. Waving their swim fins slowly, they stayed near the surface. He slid his hard dick into her pussy from behind. If anybody was to see, one might have thought it was how porpoises had sex. Humping hard with the water messing up his cadence, his hardness pulled out of her pussy. The cold water surrounded his balls, and made them gather tightly. He slid back inside her heat, stroking her and causing a considerable amount of splashing as he thrust his hips. Gabrielle pushed her ass up and out of the water to help a deeper penetration.

They stopped for a moment as if they had many times, and they knew what to do. She climbed partly up the ladder attached to the boat, and he did, too, so he could keep humping her ass as his dick found her slippery hotness again. He gripped the ladder, held and yanked it to help him hump on her ass so hard she could have pulled the bolts out. He groaned and groaned as he humped her hard and fast. He threw his head back and thrust into her, and a hard release of his hot, inner fluid shot into her. She felt his thick warmness, and clamped her thighs tight, and held still while her pussy muscles manipulated him to give all he had to the last drop. He groaned as his hardness dissipated, and he purposely fell back into the water separating from her body. Gabrielle climbed aboard, and Psalms took a couple of backstrokes before joining her.

Back in the stateroom, a hot shower caressed them with warmth. They washed each other from head to toe and all in between; they steamed their way into bed and began to drift asleep.

The last thing they heard on the stereo was The Isley Brothers singing “Voyage to Atlantis.”

“S
top, get your hands off me! Get your hands off me!” Evita felt two sets of hands manhandling her. First her feet were untied, then each ankle retied to the bed posts. Then, her hands were tied wide apart. A warm and wet towel was wiped over her body. The scent smelled like lilac soap. From her fingers, underarms and breasts, and from her torso on down to her private parts, her legs and feet, she felt someone was bird bathing her whole body.

Whomever had bathed her had taken a considerable amount of time washing around and in her vagina and anus. It had turned in to foreplay with someone using something oily, massaging into those same areas.

“Stop touching me. Get your hands off of me.” Evita's plea went unanswered, and someone kept touching her. With the fact Evita had both male and female genitalia, the person or people enjoyed their intrusive assault on her. She heard the breathing become heavier on one side of her; on the other side, she heard a wet sound. She knew a woman was playing with her own pussy, and also knew a man was masturbating. Which one was touching her, she couldn't tell. She was fighting for her genitals not to react.

Evita began to assume that, after so much time had gone by and she had not heard any speaking voices, whomever it was, worried
they might be identified. Such a thing gave her hope of surviving. She relaxed her body, and forbade her mind and soul to be tormented by the molesting violators assaulting her body. Maybe she was going to live to fight another day.

T
ylowe walked out of the airport and into the Vegas sun. It was warmer than Seattle's spring weather, but it wasn't the summer heat warming his bald head. Suzy Q pulled up to the curb in a classic convertible 1965 Jaguar. She had rented it from an exotic car company.

Her thin lips separated just enough for Tylowe to see her chewing a large wad of gum. She wore sunglasses, the same multifunctional kind as Psalms used, but Suzy Q's were extremely dark.

She adjusted her black-and-white polka-dot scarf. In her red, thin, cowboy-style blouse, she looked the part of a movie star from the 1930s. She didn't smile at Tylowe, but instead turned her head toward him and blew a big bubble with her gum until it popped. She was pretending to be a Hollywood starlet, picking up her co-star. He threw his bags in the backseat and eased into the old but preserved leather seat.

No music was playing, so immediately Tylowe reached for the updated radio controls. He scanned radio stations, but couldn't find his taste in music. So, he reached into one of his bags and pulled out his iPod and headphones.

They hit the highway with Suzy Q racing against the Vegas hotels in the backdrop. Tylowe enjoyed the view for a while before he tilted his head back against the headrest. From the moment the
plane had landed, he had been on edge. He closed his eyes and let the sun paint red behind his eyelids in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Their destination was, hopefully, where the children might be staying. He and Suzy Q would broach that situation in the morning. With time on his hands, Tylowe planned to meet up with a few old college classmates who lived in Vegas.

Booked into The Flamingo for the night, Suzy Q had other plans; she was hitting the night scene to hang with people who rolled like her. She was looking forward to partying with the above-ground Vegas underground that played freely, with no opposition from anal attitudes. Suzy Q was about to get her party on with cross-dressers, gays, lesbians, transvestites, and even some straight folk who just wanted a wild party. She had already tapped her connections for the places to be.