Father Figure Page 2

  “Why did you throw me away?” I asked, running my thumb along his lower lip. I was surprised to hear myself ask the question, as if I had not thought of it. Hearing it made me angry.

  I bent down and kissed his mouth. And when that became unsatisfying, I pinched at the hinges of his jaw to make his mouth open. I slipped my tongue in, licking his tongue and rows of his teeth that tasted of coffee.

  “I really love you,” I said, straightening. I kissed his throat; the small bump of his Adam’s apple.

  I drew the sheet over him, tucking him in. I looked around his apartment until I finally found his batch of keys in the kitchen – hung up on a small hook over one of the cabinets. I shoved them into my pocket. His cell phone was plugged into a charger on the counter. I turned it off before I left.

  There were six keys on his key ring; attached to a metal badge that bore his car’s logo. The Lexus had a special chip the key shop couldn’t duplicate. I knew one of the smaller ones was for his mailbox; mine looked the same. I had the key shop cut copies of the other four. I didn’t know what they were but it didn’t matter. I just cared that one of them was the key to his apartment. I had one more stop, to see a nurse I had been seeing on occasion, at the local clinic.

  It had been nearly two hours since I had left Father in his own bed. I returned to my own apartment first, taking only an empty syringe and small squares of alcohol pads from a kit I’d picked up from my friend. The four keys I had made jingled in one pocket while the “borrowed” keys were in the other. I went back to his apartment and tried the door with my copied keys until one of them opened it. I slipped that one into my back pocket.

  The apartment was quiet when I went in. I went to the bedroom first and he was still asleep, in the exact position I had left him in. The drug could last up to 8 hours, but he had taken an unmeasured dosage—he could wake up earlier.

  “I’m home,” I said as I sat down on the bed; the mattress dipping down with my weight. “Did you miss me?”

  I pulled up the sheet covering his feet and rolled up the hem of the left leg of the jeans.

  “I know I shouldn’t pull blood from here,” I said as I took the empty syringe out of my pocket along with the individual packs of the alcohol pads. “But it’ll hurt less here.”

  I ran my fingers up and down the sole of his foot – after ensuring he had no reaction, I worked on finding the vein at his ankle. It took awhile but I found it. I drew the blood into the syringe and capped the needle. I could feel the warmth of the blood through my coat pocket when I shoved it there. It was curiously arousing. A part of my own father’s warmth could now be felt, pressed against my side through my pocket.

  I held the square of cotton wet with alcohol against the small puncture wound until the bleeding stopped. I pulled the sheet over him again.

  I kissed him as I pressed one of his hands against my straining erection. I pictured in my head how his hand would grip and stroke it, while he looked fixedly at me. The arousal that had flared in me spiked. I wanted badly to shove into him and feel his warmth that way. I realized I was biting his tongue, not just licking it. I leaned back, pulling myself away before I hurt him. He still looked angel-like and serene, in spite of what I was doing to him. His lips were wet and looked a little bruised.

  “Sorry,” I said and went to his bathroom where I masturbated into a wad of toilet paper and flushed it down the toilet. I was panting, watching the swirl of water taking the evidence of my lust away. I was calmer but I wasn’t sated. I knew I had to leave before I became aroused again.

  I wrote him a note, tucking it under his alarm clock at his bedside. I took another survey through his apartment again, making sure he didn’t have an alarm system. I emptied his coffee pot and rinsed it out. The two mugs that were left in the living room were also emptied. I washed the cups and placed them to dry on the dish rack. I turned his cell phone back on. The screen said he had missed three calls from Cheryl. I was irritated; guessing Cheryl was the woman who stayed overnight at the apartment a month ago.

  I comforted myself with the thought that it would only be a short time until my father would belong to me and only me.

  I’d drawn my own blood from the kit and placed both full syringes into the case. I wrote A and B on small white stickers and stuck it on them. I drove to the lab where I knew my friend would be working the weekend shift. He had promised me a favor from weeks before, when I had fixed his wife’s collection of parking tickets.

  “Just need paternity done?” He said as he took the small case from me. “Nothing of the criminal nature?”

  “No,” I said. “Sample A is the father and B is the son. They want to keep it anonymous until they know what to do with the result.”

  “There’s a home kit for this kind of stuff now,” he said.

  “I am sure there are home kits for everything,” I said. “But I’d like it done by someone whom I can trust to be certain of the results.”

  “But you can’t use it in court,” he said. “What I am doing is not exactly proper or legal.”

  “They won’t bring it to court. They just need to know for themselves.”

  He opened the case and inspected the filled syringes.

  “OK. I’ll call you with the results either late tonight or early morning. I’ll run this when most of the lab’s clear.”

  I gave him a thumbs-up and left. When I got into my car, I decided I couldn’t go back to Golden Falls Estates. I would be too tempted to see him. To touch him. I loved him and I believed I had come to love him even more today. It would devastate me if he wasn’t my father.

  I was sitting on the car hood, drinking a beer while I smoked. I hadn’t smoked since high school, but I couldn’t calm myself down. When the cigarettes didn’t do the trick, I bought a six pack of beer. It helped a little. I sat in a secluded place where kids often went for privacy. It looked over the town. The sun hadn’t gone down completely yet, coloring the sky a spray of orange and yellow. After another hour, the town’s landscape would be dotted with lights from the houses. That would also be when the spot where I sat would be occupied with noisy, cheap cars and teenagers.

  My phone rang. It was Father. He sounded groggy as he spoke.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as soon as I picked up the phone. “I’m not sure what happened...” “It’s okay,” I said. “It happens. I think the stress of these things just got to you.”

  He didn’t sound convinced but he agreed. He apologized again.

  “I’ll come by and see you tomorrow,” I said to him. “We can continue. Please take care of yourself and go back to bed if you can.”

  “Thank you,” he said and repeated one more apology before he hung up.

  I stayed out there until the sun had disappeared completely and I could hear the rumble of broken mufflers belonging to old cars with young drivers making their way up to where I was.

  I went home.

  The news came as I pulled through the apartment gates. My friend called me as he was leaving work. “It’s a match. Well, with 99% certainty anyway,” he said. “Is that what they wanted?”

  I almost burst out laughing from joy.

  “Yes, that’s what they wanted. Thank you,” I said. “Will you destroy the samples? I wouldn’t want you to be in any kind of trouble.”

  “Yes, of course. Already done,” he said. “I’ll send you hard copies of the reports through intra- department mail.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I pulled into my assigned car port. “And tell your wife to stop parking in loading zones.”

  He laughed. “Sure, sure. See you.”

  I couldn’t contain the smile as I walked from the parking lot toward my apartment. I couldn’t see into his place until I was in my own residence. He was home – his figure a silhouette in the brightly lit living room. He was pacing back and forth, speaking to someone whom I couldn’t see, someone who was sitting on one of the couches.

  My bliss evaporated the instant the sitting person stood. A s
lim, female figure embraced Father and he returned it. I was enraged. So much so that I had thoughts of pulling my service pistol from the holster and going to the apartment.

  “Don’t ...” I told myself and closed the shades, willing myself to step away so I couldn’t see anymore.

  But the fury in me decided then that Father had to be taught a strict lesson soon. Even if I had to hurt him in order for him to learn.

  Irritated, I left my apartment again, but this time, I knew where I was going.

  CHAPTER 2

  I visited him the next day, as I had said I would. He politely told me not to worry about him and excused himself, he had a date to prepare for. Although that was the truth and I saw him leave in a neatly pressed shirt and slacks ensemble, I could feel that he was leery of me. Perhaps he had trace memories about the way I had touched him and kissed him that had become an uncomfortable dream. Perhaps his instincts were strong, I didn’t know, I couldn’t read him. I left him alone but kept him in my periphery. I would need more time to ready my plans at any rate.

  A month went by until the preparations were ready. During that time, I only gave him a cordial smile when we happened to meet in the mail room or in the parking lot. I had driven by his workplace in my patrol car, catching him a couple of times when he emerged with his colleagues. His smile was uneasy, almost nervous, as he greeted me and excused himself in the same sentence.

  Then the day came. I had taken two weeks of leave, telling my supervisor I was needed to tend to my family business — it was almost true. I packed a rental SUV, filling the trunk with things I needed and had collected over time. I went to his apartment and let myself in. It would be another hour, perhaps three, if he stepped out to have a Friday night drink at a bar with his friends, before he came home.

  I slipped on my leather gloves and loosened the light bulbs in the floor lamps — the two torch-style lamps that clicked on at the switch next to the front door. I walked through his apartment again, this time to study his wardrobe hung up neatly in his closet. I found an empty carry-on suitcase tucked away in the corner. I packed it with a few of his shirts, pants and underwear, and zip-lock bagged a few of his toiletries. The most time consuming part of that was deciding what I wanted him to wear.

  He had nice clothes – most of them expensive with name brands. He made good money and he spared none of it to look good.

  I set his bag by the door and looked through his refrigerator. I helped myself to one of his beers. He liked imports and he drank from glass bottles, not cans. Just like me. I drank two Kolsh from the case before I heard footsteps come up the staircase and stop at the doorway. I drained the last mouthful from the bottle and got to my feet. I was ready for him even as he slid his key through the lock.

  The room was dark, and although I had ample time to adjust to the darkness – it was still difficult to maneuver in a place I was not entirely familiar with. I did know where his hand would be and where he would be standing when I heard the click of the light switch. That was my only advantage. He hadn’t even the time to register that the lights were out when I seized him by the wrist and pulled him into the apartment. He let out a gasp, surprised. He dropped his briefcase. Before he could say a thing, I clasped a hand over his mouth and slammed him against the door, closing it.

  His hands carne up reflexively to pry at mine. I kneed him hard in his midsection. He doubled aver and a gasp carne from his covered mouth.

  "Don't fight," I said in a growl, dropping my voice deep enough for him not to recognize it. "I can guarantee you will come out on the worst end of it."

  He breathed heavily, trying to pull some air into his lungs. My hand that was sealed aver his mouth, tightened.

  “I bet you wish you’d done a lot of things differently now,” I said into his ear. “A little regretful that you didn’t take the advice you were given?”

  I couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark, but I could imagine his wide eyes. His breath caught – I could feel it with my fingers. I found myself inexplicably becoming aroused, turned on by his fright.

  “As long as you do as you are told, I won’t hurt you,” I said, taking a gulp of air to calm myself down. “Understand?”

  He tried to nod. He could move only slightly.

  “Very good,” I said, taking a thin strip of cotton linen out of my pocket and wadding it into a ball in one hand.

  “Shhhhh—“ I said, removing my gloved hand from his mouth slowly. I kept control over him with a firm hold on his jaw – my thumb and forefinger digging in. His struggle renewed but he barely got a word out as I shoved the linen into his mouth. I closed his mouth again before he could spit it out.

  “Be good...”

  He was kicking, writhing against the door that rattled noisily as I bound another strip of cotton around his mouth, pinning the gag in. His hands came up, gouging at my arms. A flare of anger rose in me and I lost my composure in that short moment. I pulled him away from the door to stop him from banging against it. Then I hit him. I hit him across the face with the back of my hand – the sound of it loud and crisp, echoed in the dark apartment. I hadn’t hit him very hard, but he stumbled, the momentum throwing him off guard, and he fell, barely catching himself in time with his hands. He saw the outline of his carry-on bag as he knelt there.

  I crouched down, taking him by the back of his neck and pinning him down. His face was still turned, looking at his bag.

  “That’s right,” I said softly, as I fetched my handcuffs from my pocket. “We are going on a trip.” I wrenched one of his hands toward his back and snapped one cuff on before he realized what had

  happened. He started to panic, refusing to let me take his free hand. His screams were strained, muffled through the gag. He sounded good.

  “I know you’re scared so I’ll give you a few free passes,” I told him. I pressed a knee over his spine and shifted my weight until his struggles slowed to slight movements. I snatched his other wrist easily and pulled it toward the waiting cuff. “But no more...”

  I leaned in and kissed the back of his neck.

  “I will punish you for each trespass from this point on,” I said into his ear. “Each punishment will be worse and worse... until you learn.”

  I double-locked the cuffs and left him lying on the floor. I told him to remain there as I gathered the beer bottles I’d drunk from into a plastic bag and shoved it into a pocket of the carry-on case. I went back to his bedroom and went through his closet again until I found what I was looking for.

  He was lying still on the floor where I had left him. I could make out his shrouded figure clearly — the way he was trying to breathe, and I could hear the unevenness of it.

  “Very good,” I said as I approached him. I helped him up to his knees and wound a scarf around his nose and mouth. “Don’t be scared. I really do like you.”

  I stood him up and laced his long coat around his shoulders.

  “We are going to go for a ride,” I said, slipping a hand under his coat so I could hook my fingers over the links that joined the cuffs together. “Don’t try to run. Don’t try to signal anyone. Keep your head straight and eyes ahead.”

  I took out the gun that was clipped to my hip holster, hidden under my jacket and showed it to him. He took in another deep breath, his reaction to it evident.

  “I won’t hurt you unless...” I didn’t finish my sentence. He knew.

  I walked him down the stairs — one hand guiding him by the cuffs and the other carrying his bag. It was past eight P.M. and although we could hear activities behind the closed doors of the apartments we passed, we didn’t meet anyone in the hallway or in the parking lot.

  I opened the passenger side door first and pushed him in. I put his bag in the backseat and slid into the driver’s seat. His eyes were staring fixedly forward. I started the car and that was when he looked over, his eyes becoming large. He could see me under the street light that had spilled through the trees.

  I only gave him a smile and fa
stened his seat belt.

  “We can talk later,” I said. “We’re a little behind schedule.”

  He said nothing for nearly three hours. He only stared at the dashboard, probably trying to wrap his mind around what had happened. I let him. I was still feeling aroused and excited and I wanted to touch him. To distract myself, I turned on the radio which filled the silence. Soon, he had drifted off to sleep. He would need as much rest as he could get.

  He woke up when I took the rental off-road. Dirt and rock with some scattering of snow swayed the car left and right. He sat up as straight as he could. I reached over and patted him on one thigh.