An Eye For An Eye (The Club)

My questions seemed to agitate him on good nights and flat out piss him off on others. “What do you want from me?” I should think it was obvious when his hand slipped between the folds of my robe to cup my breast. Perspiration slicked my skin with goosebumps.

He entrances me unfairly with his touch, the one sense of mine magnified the most and it’s damn unfair. “Why do you visit me like this?” His large hand is hot, and his thumb caressed my nipple in a circular motion playfully over the silk. I want his hand to move lower and stroke me but he doesn’t. There is gentleness in his firm grasp that waylays my fears. I wish that he would say something–anything. Each visit he silently asks for more liberties with my body that I’m all too willing to give. I was close to the breaking point of throwing myself on his mercy to take me, take me hard and cease this ache within me.

“Why are you h-here?” The last is said on a half strangled moan as his hand slips inside my parted nightgown, fingers rubbing against my nipple, skin on skin this time, pinching the puckered mound until an electric zing of pain melds with pleasure down to my center. Desire begins a slow boil and threatens to bloom like a flourishing night orchid. He has incinerated my defenses and turned me into an incoherent mess.

Slipping my leg between his, I rub my knee up his leg, and down the front of his pants against a distinct ridge. The dress slacks are smooth fabric, fine wool maybe? Definitely not denim. A chuckle erupted within me, and I found it funny he dressed in a suit as usual. A button and slim zipper are all that keep me from touching him. My hand slid up to grab his thickly muscled arm squeezing appreciatively. His cock is large, long and rigid inside his pants as I pressed against him, that devilish wandering hand of his slipped down to my ass, bunching silky fabric to cup bare skin, lifting me up to meet him. Fingers traced my bare bottom and slipped between us roaming upwards touching the hot skin of my bare mound. His fingers wander further back to forbidden territory momentarily and I’m clenching inside tight as a pulled elastic band. Grunting is the only response he gives me.

I need more.

Taking a deep breath, I held back the tear that wanted to fall from my tightly shut eyes. “T-tell me your name, something about you to make this real for me….” And with that, he abruptly stops leaving me panting and cold. My core is drenched between my thighs which slickly rub together, chaffing me with disappointment against my newly waxed pussy lips. I am aching, my legs shaking like a new born foal. His head moved into the crook of my shoulder with heavy breaths resting as he released his hold on me. What the hell is wrong with him? With me?

“Why? Why won’t you give me something?” His hands cupped my face and he exhaled a heavy breath. Angrily, I punched against his chest and he firmly holds my hands together with one of his easily overpowering me.

“Did I do something wrong?” Panicked that he’s leaving, tears pricked under my eyelids, useless flaps of skin that failed to protect me any more than the heaving ribs around my damaged heart. It feels like no one in my life wants me for me, there’s some catch I don’t understand. Frantically, I reach out towards him when he takes my flailing arms and folds them around my middle, pushing me back gently until I’m flush imprisoned against the cold wall. He steps away from me and my body freezes from rejection. I’m not wanted. I shrink back into myself, keeping my arms securely over my stomach. Being this vulnerable leaves me nauseated and bone weak.

“Get out. Just get the fuck out and leave me alone. Stop coming back here if you’re not man enough to follow through.” Fury bubbled over and snarling my request seems to do the job, because he does exactly as I asked of him. I should move on with my life, forget him all together.

Slowly as if regretfully, he waited until my body holds steady on my own. Reaching an arm back behind me, almost doubled over from the physical pain of rejection, I grappled the wall for stability and re-tied my robe shutting him out.

Why is he still here?

With my fabric armor back in place, I’m screaming now sliding down the wall pathetically. “I said get out!” His footsteps are almost silent except for the squeak of his dress shoes on my tile floor. The loss of his physical heat is the only indication that the distance between us increases. My ears hone in on his retreat and acutely hear him pausing.

“Don’t come back here again!” Reaching around the floor, my fingers found purchase around the handle of the pan and I throw it letting it clang against tile. Finally, he moves locking the door when he goes. I should get the locks changed, but he’d just break them open like the first time.

I sat in my cold little kitchen slumped against the wall wondering why the hell I stayed practically locked up inside my little house in Karim, Texas. I didn’t owe this fucking town a thing and swayed a little drunkenly from being aroused and left unsatisfied. Crawling now, hands grasped for

the chair pulling me up to sit down at my table. My rear hit the seat with a thump, letting my hand feel around the smooth wooden surface until I touched the small velvet box. I pulled it towards me and opened the lid carefully.

My fingers find the pendant inside and pull it out with the chain. It feels oddly shaped, a triangle I think, three points, but ribbed with jewels peppering the front of it. I have no idea what the design is. Bastard bought me jewelry. He denies me any connection beyond my faulty sight and then gives me gifts I can’t even appreciate. My fingers rub over the design and giving in I clasp the chain clumsily around my neck letting the necklace fall between my breasts. This is why I stay in Karim. I’m afraid if I leave, he won’t be able to find me–because as much as it hurts, it feels good to be seen by someone who doesn’t outright pity me.

Two

LORAND

“Get out. Just get the fuck out and leave me alone. Stop coming back here if you’re not man enough to follow through.” Her words cut me with the truth. If she only knew the truth…a strange thing at best. I’m not worthy of her.

Jude is beautiful in spite of the faintest of scars that mar the edges of her temples. Tiny interspersed ridges that are barely noticeable unless you get within centimeters of her face. The matching scars are from a chemical burn and caustic fumes that stole the sight from her pretty brown eyes. The day it happened plays over and over in my mind like a wicked movie, I can’t seem to stop the reel...

She’s busy chatting with her girlfriends sitting at the lunch table. A seat once familiar to me and one in which I sat in years earlier when attending my education here in Karim. I hadn’t noticed her much then given I was older. Pompous uniforms, starched oxford shirts and dark pants for the boys. Plaid skirts often rolled up shorter and tall knee high socks for the girls that wetted every young boy’s fantasies.

So badly there was a time I wanted to speak to her, confess my sins, but I know that will only complicate matters more. I can have her, but it comes with a terrible price I am not ready to pay for both our sakes.

Her head turns to look at me with a smile as I continued to walk down the hallway from her. The intent of the package under my arm nearly burned through my suit and scorched my skin with guilt. This was what I did. It was who I was and what I had been recruited and trained for.

Her name was Judith May Noire. Dark eyes, dark mahogany hair that shone red flames in the sunshine. A witty sense of humor and an angelic face that brought peace to my fractured soul for what I was about to do. It was for her protection and retribution for Lacy that I did this.

A group of three men were sentenced to die for their role in taking students from the private school and forcing them to a life involved in sex trafficking. They always picked the poor ones, easy targets until someone asked for something specific. They used the school like a fucking toy catalog. Two of the latest girls were the ones receiving scholarships to attend. The administrators said they ‘transferred’ to another school, because they didn’t perform well enough to keep their scholarship. It was the standard excuse given when they mysteriously disappeared. It was bullshit. Those fuckers had been doing it for years.

Years.

It would have been sad, tragic, but easier if she had died with the rest of them in the accident, but she didn’t. Jude is a tenacious little thing and a thorn in my professional career. All of my targets have gone down–except for one. It’s my fault he got away because I was tending to her. The only good thing is that my actions dried up the sex trafficking that occurred in Karim.

The explosion in the science lab on the edge of campus, technically not even on school grounds was supposed to take out the three administrators who were secretly meeting. An accident they called it. A convenient excuse for their failings. Chemicals that had not been properly stored and the residual fumes burned sensitive flesh and scared precious tissue and organs. Those that would die were meant to suffer. I had carefully timed it so the rest of the students would be at an assembly on the far side of campus. Far away from the havoc I was creating to re-establish the balance...of right and wrong.

I checked the building front to back and again twice making sure no one, absolutely no one else was there. I didn’t know those men–pillars of the community had called her to join them–that she was to be their next victim already.

There were only three ways a student got into Karim Academy. Belong to the society within, get a scholarship to attend or be the bastard of one of the administrators…