The Complete Quake Series Page 2
* * *
I wake up earlier than I’d like. Holding my body still, I avoid any motion and take stock of how my head’s feeling. There’s still a bit of a dull throb going on, but this beats the skull splitting ache of last night. Dealing with this pain on a regular basis is exhausting, but there’s nothing that can be done aside from taking narcotic pain meds. Which I refuse to do. I’ve seen too many people’s lives ruined by opiate addictions and I won’t ever willingly put myself in such a position. No one ever sets out to become an addict. Once those pills have you in their grasp, their torturous grip squeezes the life out of you and there’s no escaping.
I’ve been dealing with chronic pain for so long I can’t remember what it’s like to feel good. What I wouldn’t do for a day of no aching or throbbing - no fuck that, I’d be satisfied with an hour. Any relief from this burden would be an incredible gift. It weighs heavily on me, but I’ve got the broad shoulders to carry it. Still a day doesn’t pass where I don’t wish I could go back in time and relive the moment that changed my whole life.
A long hot shower can work wonders and after the one I just took I’m feeling close to normal. I’m working from home today. Grabbing some coffee from the kitchen, I head into my home office. My desk is custom made, double the length and half the width of a normal one. This allows me to use a triple monitor setup and I can watch multiple spaces in Bryan’s house at one time. I type in the commands to bring his office up on my screen my thoughts temporarily wander to Janny, but I push her out of my mind.
Watching Bryan work on his computer is one of the least interesting jobs I’ve ever taken. This guy is boring as fuck and I’m earning every penny of my money on this gig. Sitting in my car for an all-night stakeout would beat this. I wish he’d leave the house just to switch it up, but he continues to sit there, shoulders rolled forward, typing furiously on his keyboard. Ben our computer specialist installed a software monitoring system and he’s tracking Bryan’s every online move. Hopefully he finds something wrong soon, because I might die of fucking boredom on this job. I drum my fingers on my desk and fight the urge to check on Janny.
The next few days pass quickly, leaving me with no new information acquired about Bryan. For all intents and purposes, he seems to be the perfect husband. He works in his office all day long and then has dinner waiting on the table when she comes home. From what I’ve seen he’s extremely attentive. He listens to what she says, showering her with affection, often touching her in some small way, like a dance only couples who’ve been with each other for a long time have mastered.
While I sit here typing up my case notes for my records, my mind is distracted with images of Janny. It’s been a couple of days since I saw her, but I find her invading my thoughts more than she should be. Flashes of her back arched in the throes of her orgasm consume me. It was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. It’s unfortunate she’s not the slightest bit aware of the desire she’s inspired in me. I can’t remember the last time I hungered for someone so much or came with such force.
I’m disappointed she hasn’t been around the house at all the past two days. I know she’s a student at Boston University and I’m assuming her course load is keeping her busy, but I’ve missed seeing her. I’ve missed her beautiful smile that can infuse the entire room with light, I’ve missed the way she tips her head to the right when she’s paying close attention to what someone’s saying. I’ve missed the way she tucks her hair behind her left ear and chews on the side of her full bottom lip when she’s lost in her thoughts. Every time I see her I notice more. My instincts allow me to see beyond what the average person does. Everything I’m observing about her makes me want to know her, to know who she really is. I want the flesh and blood version of her, not the muted one on a screen. I’m curious to know what makes her laugh and what makes her cry. Which does she prefer, Mexican or Chinese food? How old was she when she was kissed for the first time? What’s the name of the lucky bastard who took her virginity?
There are so many questions I need to know the answers to - questions I’ve never been interested in knowing the answers to before now. I’ve never felt this burning intensity for someone. I’m a solitary guy by nature, even more so for the past few years, but every single cell of my broken soul is pushing me toward her.
She’s never set eyes on me. She has no idea I exist...but she will.
* * *
Observing Bryan is the last thing I want to be doing today. I’m in a shit mood and it’s a good thing I’m working from home because I’m not fit for company. Some days I wonder why I bother. It would be so much easier for me to just end the uncertainty of my situation with a bullet to my brain or maybe swallowing down a bottle worth of pills would be a more surefire alternative. I could wash them down with one last drink of Jameson in a farewell toast.
It’s been nice knowing ya, now fuck off.
Just like an angel swooping in to save me from the depths of my darkness, Janny appears on one of the screens. Her breasts are thrust forward as she removes her jacket and my mouth waters. I wonder what kind of sounds she would make as I suck on her nipples. Would she cry out or would she stay silent? Would she whimper or would she moan?
Hanging her jacket on the coat rack by the door, she moves into the spacious kitchen. When she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and leaves the room, I scramble to type in the commands allowing me access to follow her movements throughout the house. I find her climbing the stairs and watch her ass temptingly sway while she walks down the long hallway to her bedroom. I press the necessary keys, bringing the video inside her room up on my screen and settle back in my leather office chair to watch.
Setting the drink down on the nightstand, she toes off her sneakers. When her hands move to the button on her pants I sit up, leaning forward in hopeful anticipation of where this might go. When her zipper lowers, I hear it in my head. She wiggles her hips while pushing her tight jeans down and my cock jumps in appreciation. She steps out of her pants and leaves them on the floor, her long, pale legs carrying her across the room.
Oh Jesus.
She’s wearing a thong. Her ass is so fucking perfect I want to slide my dick back and forth between her cheeks and then thrust it inside her hot, wet cunt. Fuck. I’ve got to know what it feels like to be inside her. To be squeezed by her pussy when she orgasms. To mark her with my come.
I push down the waistband of my sweatpants and boxers, freeing my hard-as-iron dick. When my fist closes around it I imagine Janny’s hand gripping me tightly. Starting off slowly, I take my time, moving up and down the length of my cock, but the sight of her delectable ass jiggling while she moves around her room is too much for me to take. I stroke harder and faster; my fingers squeeze my dick while I fantasize it’s the walls of her pussy clamping down on me. My harsh breaths echo through the quiet of my office before turning into her name when I come. I clean myself up with some tissues and lean my head back in the chair. Shame seeps in, but I push it back because watching her is the only thing keeping me going right now.
* * *
I agreed to meet my little sister, Kenna, at Quake, a popular bar in Boston. I can see every exhale of my breath in the crisp February night air as I walk toward the large, brick building that houses the bar. This isn’t a place I would normally come to, it’s not really my style. I’m more of a dirty and dark type, kind of like my sexual preferences.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself, we haven’t even met, but I can’t help wondering if Janny shares similar tastes with me. Does she like a firm hand? Does she want someone to take charge and make her feel more pleasure than she’s ever experienced? I long to see her on hands and knees, as she arches her back, purring contentedly. The thought of my hand connecting with her ass has my cock springing to life. The force from my slap would ripple over her skin like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Christ, I need to stop these thoughts before someone notices my hard on.
Walking into Quake, my eyes instinctively scan the ro
om. It’s not just a habit, it’s more like muscle memory. I’m clocking every suspicious person and logging every exit, in case the need for a quick escape arises. During my search, I locate my sister. I’m proud of her, after all these years she’s finally listening to all my repeated instructions. Knowing I’d make her move if she didn’t, she’s chosen to sit at a table in the back corner, less than twenty feet from the rear door. If trouble jumps off, she can cover the distance in just under five seconds. The rest of the civilians will all stampede toward the front at the first sign of trouble. They’ll bottleneck at the door, making it impossible for any more than a baker’s dozen to get out unscathed.
I notice the brightness of Kenna’s smile as I approach the table. Her best friend Liz, who I happen to find annoying as fuck, is with her. I know by the end of the night she’ll be hanging on me, trying to start something that’s never going to happen - not in this lifetime anyway.
“Kenny,” I say, using the nickname I’ve been calling her since we were little kids, as I lean over and kiss her on her cheek.
“Hey Kyle, what’s with the gloomy expression? You look even scarier than you usually do,” she jokes, winking at me.
My lips quirk upward in a small grin and I think about how she’s the only person in my life who can draw a smile out of me whenever she wants. I don’t give them out freely and most would probably refer to me as surly or anti-social. I wasn’t always this way. I used to be ‘that,’ guy. You know, the guy who’s the life of the party and doesn’t have a care in the world. I lived large and had no plans to change. While it was a somewhat selfish existence, I wasn’t hurting anyone. I’ve always been respectful of women, even if I didn’t want anything more than sex from them. I took advantage of what was freely offered, but what guy wouldn’t?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kenny,” I answer, wanting to shelter her from how difficult the past couple of days have been for me with the inescapable pain from my headaches.
“Hi Kyle.” There it is - the most annoying sound in the world. Liz’s nasally voice gives me chills and not in a good way. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.
“Liz.” If there was a way to ignore her without looking like a rude fucker I would, but my parents taught me the importance of good manners. I may be a moody asshole, but I’m always a polite asshole. “I’m going to go grab a drink. Are you guys all set?” I ask.
Setting off for the bar after they both nod, I’m grateful for the momentary escape from Liz. The path to the bar is jammed up with a wall of bodies and I try to relax as a wave of panic overwhelms me. This is another part of the “new” me. I never used to feel claustrophobic in a crowd, but now it’s all I can do to keep my feet firmly planted in place. I remind myself everything’s fine, my teeth grinding while I fight the urge to flee. The press of all these people is beginning to get to me and I know it’s going to be ugly if I don’t get out of here as soon as possible. Ducking my shoulder, I push through the crowd like I’m back in my football playing glory days. My eyes adjust to the bright light of the hallway as I head toward the employee exit. My complete focus is on reaching the door and escaping outside into the cool, fresh air. I don’t see the woman coming out of the bathroom until it’s too late and we’ve already crashed. I catch her, my arms around her back an apology on my tongue.
“I’m sorry.” I become speechless when I notice who I’m holding in my arms.
Janny Moore.
Time freezes when my eyes meet hers for the first time. My tongue is thick in my mouth, my breathing shallow, my heart pounding impossibly fast, as I realize the exact shade of blue her eyes are. The name for the color comes to me in an instant.
Cerulean blue.
When I was a kid I loved to draw and my favorite crayon out of the large Crayola box was cerulean blue. I used it so much it wore down, finally snapping into two pieces. In all my thirty-three years of living, I’ve never seen anything in existence that matched the color of that crayon, until now.
“I’m so sorry.” The sweet chimes of her voice pull me out of my introspection and into the here and now.
I realize my arms are still around her and I move my hands to her upper arms. “Are you okay?” I ask, my voice comes out more like a croak than the baritone it usually is.
She smiles at me and I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life. Her lips are a shiny, dark pink color, the bottom curve is much fuller than the top bow shaped one. I want to bite it and then suck it into my mouth. I’ve never had such a powerful need to kiss someone, but I know it’s too soon. If I kiss her now, my passion will scare her and send her running from me. If I kiss her now, I’ll never be able to fucking stop.
“I’m fine. I wasn’t paying attention when I left the ladies room. I’m really sorry.” Her voice has a melodic lilting quality to it and I never want this conversation to end.
“I’m sure it was my fault, not yours. Don’t even worry about it.” I smile at her and let my fingers skim down her arms as they fall away. It’s incredible to be genuinely happy in this moment, I didn’t force myself to smile. I can’t remember the last time I felt this sense of exaltation.
“Well, I better get back to my friend. Thanks for being so understanding.” She smiles one final time before she turns and walks away.
NO.
I want to shout at her to come back. To ask her not to leave me. I’m not ready to lose the euphoric feeling being in her presence gave me. In that moment, I forgot all the things that weigh so heavily on me each and every day. They ceased to exist and for those sixty seconds of perfection, I was the Kyle I used to be and not this fucked up version of myself, I’ve been forced to accept for the past three years.
When she disappears from my sight, the elation I felt in her presence quickly turns to despair. It’s sudden like the flip of a switch, but mood swings are part of my daily reality.
I don’t want to be here anymore.
I can’t walk back to our table and see her sitting with another guy. Once my mind’s made up, I send Kenna a text telling her I got called away for work. I leave out the door I was heading for when I bumped into Janny.
I don’t go straight home. I stop at the pub I frequent more than any other. It’s within walking distance of my house in case I get too fucked up to drive and this might be one of those times. My eyes quickly scan the room. I need a drink and I need it now. My emotions are hanging by a thread and I want something to dull all this rage I’m experiencing. The bartender comes over to take my order as soon as my ass meets the stool.
“Three shots of Jameson,” I say, before clenching my teeth, trying to rein in the urge to fuck someone up. Mainly the nameless, faceless guy who was at the bar with Janny. I don’t even know for certain she was there with someone, but why wouldn’t she be? She’s perfection, I can’t be the only guy who recognizes this.
The bartender places all three shot glasses down on the bar and pours them quickly and efficiently, without spilling a single drop. I nod my thanks when he walks away. Holding up the first one, I stare at the golden-brown color and wonder what I should drink to. What is there in my life worth dedicating a toast to? Kenny. Kenny’s worth it. I drink the shot in her honor. The liquor works in the best way possible, erasing any hope I have of being with Janny and numbing my painful headache when it travels down my throat. I tip the glass over and slam it down on the bar. One down. Picking up the next glass in line, I dedicate this toast to my business partner and friend, Derek. I knock it back without hesitation. Hesitating is for pussies and I’m not one. Flipping it over, I keep a tally in my head - two down.
I pull the third shot in my direction. Staring at it sitting in front of me on the rough, scarred wood of the bar. There’s no one left for me to drink this shot to. There are only two people in this world I care about and I’ve already toasted both. Staring down into my glass, I notice the lights around the bar and how they reflect brightly in the liquor. This shot is for Janny Moore. She’s better off not knowing m
e. I’m not the kind of guy who’s good for her. What kind of future can I offer her when I’m a ticking time bomb waiting to explode at any second? I tip my head back as I swallow. This one burns less than the other two did. I need to stay away from her and let her be with the kind of guy she deserves. Some fraternity brother with all the right connections and endless possibilities for the future. Not someone damaged like me. She should be with someone her own age, someone who’s healthy and not bitter from the shitty hand life has dealt him. Flagging down the bartender, I thump my empty shot glass down. I need one more shot for a toast and this might be the most important one of them all.
The fourth and final toast is easier to come up with than I expected. Here’s to making it through another day without ending my painful existence once and for all.
Chapter Three
Janny
“Do you want another one, babe?” my friend Josh asks as he rises then backs away from the table we’re seated at. I’ve reached the tipping point where if I consume another drink I’ll pass on over to the other side of drunkenness and if I stop now my buzz will soon wear off.
Staring at my almost empty glass, I weigh out my options and decide to quit while I’m ahead. I don’t want this night to end with my head buried in the toilet and Josh holding my hair back. Although it wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it. He makes a hell of a hair holder and he’s the best friend I could ask for.
“No thanks. I’m stopping now. Can you please get me an ice water though?”
He does this half wink-half chin lift to acknowledge he heard me before he walks away. Alone at the table, I think about the stranger from earlier this evening. I had the oddest reaction to him. Crashing into him was like hitting a brick wall, only less painful. His arms around my back kept me from falling to the ground as my hands landed on his bulging biceps. Even through the thickness of his black sweater I could feel how solidly he was built. An apology fell from his lips even though it was clearly my fault. The sound of his deep, husky voice drew my gaze to his face - his devastatingly handsome face. His eyes were a warm shade of brown interspersed with golden flecks that perfectly complemented his thick, black, slightly curved eyebrows. His nose was thin and straight except for the slight bump on the bridge which made me wonder how it had been broken. Was he in a fight? Is he the type of guy trouble seems to find? Or does he seek it out looking for it at every turn?