No Rest for the Wicked

5. Implication

Something stirs in me whenever I experience something like this, more than simply the Dark Passenger. Like a wolf howling at a full moon, I feel part of something ancient, a greater unity of existence when I get a glimpse into the mind of one of my 'colleagues.'

I suppose it's a normal human emotion to want to feel connected with those like oneself, but I hardly think it's right to judge myself by the standard one would use for human beings. Clearly I am human by certain definitions, having the right genomes and correct number of appendages, but very few people consider a well-spent evening to include dumping a corpse into the Gulf Stream late at night.

The roar of the Dark Passenger was already filling my ears; the full moon was nearing and as always I longed to let the Passenger do the driving on a moonlit night. I longed to kill a man who had himself killed five people in a matter of seconds, but I had too little to go
on. Oh, sure, I had plenty of evidence, but with misinformation, thrown clumsily into the carefully balanced equation that was the basis of all forensic procedures, had to be untangled first.

A lot of my investigations don't involve forensic evidence, however, as instinct combined with access to a large database allowed a clever monster to start gathering clues. And, armed with a rare blood type, it couldn't be that hard to find, surely. And sure enough, a few minutes later, 246 subjects popped up onto my screen. Knowing that no one had popped up when he'd been run through the Florida Criminal Database had been able to commit the crime – a few being in prison, one being under interrogation and another few stationed in Iraq on military service – I removed those names from my list.

That left me 240 people in the city of Miami who were suspect. I'd leave that list for the department’s resources for that one; they'd be able to narrow it down significantly, even if it'd take weeks upon weeks. As for myself, I began cross-referencing the names on the list
with members of registered martial artists. After a quick thought, I added in military personnel. The theory went, of course, that only a trained person would be able to do so much damage.

All in all, my hunch had knocked my list down to 74 people, seven of whom were in their late-eighties and more or less immobilized in one fashion or another. An additional three were currently working abroad – one a physicist at CERN, I noticed – and I put those out of my mind
for now, bringing my total down to 64.

Not ideal, but with no witnesses and no exact time of death, it'd make do for now.

So, I ended this work for the evening and changed into a dark-green cotton shirt, that people said 'looked nice on me,' grabbed my keys off the table and walked to my car to pick up Rita for our date.

"How do I look?" Rita asked with a twirl.

It was a silly question; of course she looked taller – it was the
heels – more sensual because of the painted lips, more suggestive
because of a silver dress, following every curve of her body
perfectly. But one couldn't say that, I'd learned.,

"Radiant." I said,
attempting to put some enthusiasm into it, but failing miserably.
"Positively radiant." I said, smoothly disguising my response as an
unexplained shock at seeing her. Which was a ludicrous thought, of
course, this was her house, and we'd arranged when I was to pick
her up almost a week ago.

"Glad you think so," she said, and half-danced towards me, "wouldn't
want to…" she bit her lip, "disappoint."

She wouldn't, of course. I didn't have all that much expectation to
live up to. Rita had put the kids to bed, so she'd have to be back
here by morning. We were going to enjoy a meal at a newly opened
sushi-place, sleep at Rita's place, and then we'd have breakfast
tomorrow morning, our ways parting when she had to drop the kids off
for school and I had to go to work.

I find it hard to smile in the proper way one is supposed to when
their dinner-partner is unable to properly use chopsticks. In the end,
I ended up pretending I hadn't noticed and we talked about the
sweet-nothings, that had become an important part of our
conversations.

Work? No complaints there, moving on.

The kids? Cody was – according to his teacher – bored and disinclined
to do his assignments. Astor was dutiful and – as always – her
teachers praised her as 'the perfect student,' though they'd reminded
Rita, that a young girl should be more social than the introvert Astor
was.

"You still going to the meetings?" Rita asked, skewering a piece of
nagiri with one chopstick.

"Didn't have time this weekend," I admitted, "And the workload
is heavy…" I started, then spotted the slight difference in
Rita's body that I'd learned to fear., "B…but, I've got some time
tomorrow night," I hastily decided to be the right answer.

"Found a new sponsor yet?" Rita asked, still not quite placated.

"No… After Lila, I think I'll take some more time to evaluate
my potential sponsor" I said, stalling.

"Yes," Rita said, thoughtfully., "It must've been terrible, really. To
have a person you were supposed to be able to trust take advantage of
you when you were at your weakest, and then trying to harm the kids."
She shuddered. "Think of what could've happened."

I had – of course – already thought those thoughts many, many times. And Lila West – the Artist Formerly Known as Lila Tournay – lay on the bottom of the ocean because of it.

***

The kids were still sleeping, of course. It was 1 o'clock – only a few
hours since we'd left – and the moon stood high in the sky. I parked
the car in front of the house, knowing from experience that trying to
park both my minivan and Rita's car in the driveway was impossible for
any mortal man.

"Thanks for a lovely dinner," Rita said as she got out of the car.

"My pleasure," I said, beaming her a smile.

We walked towards the house and made a beeline for the bedroom. I
don't know why it's always like this. We never agree to go out and
then have sex afterwards, but somehow neither of us ever needs to ask.
We just know. And tonight was no exception; I knew what would
happen and I must admit that it was growing on me.

Rita, I thought – as I sat on her bed – wasn't exactly a supermodel
and would in all likelihood never become one, yet she was quite
attractive. Modern beauty standards would say that she needed to lose
a little weight, get a bit of colour in her cheeks, wear more make-up
and probably dye her hair. I – thankfully – have never felt
constrained by what society wanted me to like, and to me she was
nothing if not beautiful.

She was putting away her earrings, walking around the room half-naked;
wearing only a set of plain, white panties.

I watched her, smiling.

Lying next to her, a hand on her stomach, I ran my fingers from her
navel in circles out until my fingers seemed to take a mind of their
own and spread out. Rita was tracing my across my upper arms and my
torso with a finger, smiling blissfully. My eyes locked on her lips
and suddenly that felt like the most important thing, and I
moved in to place a kiss on her upper lip. Apparently, she didn't
quite agree because my lips were greeted by a tongue, and I
responded in kind, watching her eyes close, as our tongues explored
one-another.

If my mouth hadn't been busy, I would've grinned, I am sure, but
instead I simply continued to kiss her, closing my eyes, as my right
hand reached down and began its work. The effect was seemingly
immediate and I could hear moans of pleasure forcing their way into
her breathing. I broke the kiss and lifted myself up, looking down at
her, as I fingered her.

Perhaps it's another sign, that I am not like other men, but
this was the most enjoyable part of sex for me. Sure, like
everyone else I enjoyed the occasional blowjob, but making someone
twist and shiver in pleasure and orgasm repeatedly while still being
able to watch her, without the distraction of being on the verge of
coming myself, but the control given to me here was undeniable.
Band besides, it was a good way to open her up.

***

"I should probably get up now," Rita said, looking at the alarm,
though there was still half-an-hour until she absolutely had to
get up. We were lying up against each other, our legs still entwined
and our noses nearly touching.

"You probably should, yea," I said, too tired to think of anything
clever to say. Then, as she rolled away from me, onto her back I had
an idea; I rolled with her.
"You say, and then you lie on top of me?" she asked.
"I said you probably should not that I'd let you," I said, winking.

She opened her mouth to say something and I interrupted her by kissing
Her, and judging by the energy and eagerness she managed to express with
her tongue, I was sure whatever argument she’ had had, had just been
crushed. Still, I rolled away and let her get up.

AUTHOR NOTE:

Thanks to Savaial for beta-reading this chapter!