Phaedra Torres - Digressions Into Erotica

He’d be there, just not quite yet.

Swinging his car up behind an old warehouse, he checked his mirrors one last time, then stepped out and stuffed his hand behind the puckered metal sign to the left of the loading dock. It took a bit of finger wiggling, but he soon had his package in hand. He briefly flipped the flap to check the contents, returned to his car and headed home.

As the streetlights slid across his windshield, he couldn’t help feeling smug. This would put him in a new tax bracket. And well deserved, he figured. He’d paid his dues and worked for every penny he’d earned. In the ten years he’d been an independent contractor, he’d graduated from Molotov cocktails to pipe bombs, to the very latest in plastique. Better toys were more expensive, especially when you only used them once, but the pay scale evened it out.

He’d spent a couple thousand in his head by the time he turned into his complex.

That would be the first thing to change. Time for new digs. Maybe he’d go further west, as in ‘all the way west’.

He pulled in, yanked his keys and jumped out of the car. The calculations put a spring in his step: how much money to throw into his retirement account, how much he could spare to start fresh in another scene. Well, not completely fresh-he’d need his contacts and references, of course.

He made what was, hopefully, one of his last trips up the stained, carpeted stairs.

and jangled his keys into position in the lock. He heard a click from inside, just seconds before the latch of his door disengaged.

He threw his door open, spun inside and back against the wall. What the fuck wasthat? He reached out to swing his door shut, and caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision. He threw his hand in that direction and felt the heavy contact of his fist against metal. A gun clattered to the floor and spun across the hall. He turned to face his would-be attacker.

“You’re shittin’ me!” He drew a slow breath, forced his body to relax and exhaled. He raised himself to the balls of his feet, resting his weight lightly.

“Hey, Pen.” He backed into the room, drawing her inside with the challenge in his gaze.

A knife, balanced loosely in her right hand. “Jay.” They eyed each other warily.

“Well, ain’t this special. It’s been a while, huh? Did you find me to satisfy your own curiosity, or is this a business call?”

“All we know is business, Jason.”

They circled each other slowly.

“Aw, come on, Pen. We did alright.” He took another slow step to the left. Pen followed, staying directly in front of him, body angled sideways, just out of arm’s reach.

Every muscle in her body looked coiled and ready to spring at any given moment. Shewas always so damn good . He shook his head. “Hector sends you . And you wonder why I went solo.”

“Hector’s a smart man, Jason.” Her weight shifted.

He leaned in slightly, centering his weight with a small bend of his knees.

***

Recognizing the gleam in his eyes, Pen drew both arms up, elbows bent, fingers loosely curled, ready to snap into tight balls of sinew and bone, fist and blade. “Well, this should be fun.”

Just as the words left her mouth, Jason threw his fist straight at her face.

Instinctively, she blocked his swing with her forearm and used his momentum to propel herself sideways. She drew her knee back and slammed it into his groin. As he pivoted to face her, she hopped to the side. There was blood in his eyes.

This was not going to be fun.

***

Jason tasted bile in the back of his throat. He needed to get a grip. A joker’s grin stretched his mouth. His cheeks ached with it.

She watched him, sizing up the damage, no doubt. This wasn’t going to work here.

He’d have to take care of her, but not yet. She had a few tasty morsels of information to feed him first.

He feigned a left jab and circled around with his right fist, aiming at her temple. She barely blocked the swing, and his fist grazed past her ear, snagging the cartilage with a grinding crunch. That’ll get her head ringing, at least.

He dodged a swipe of the blade, swung with his left again and connected with the side of her head. She staggered sideways and attempted to shake it off. He didn’t give her a chance, and followed with a fist to her diaphragm. She doubled over, air gushing out. The knife dropped to the carpet. He sent his knee into the bridge of her nose and she was down for the count.

Squirrelly as she was, he knew he needed to act quickly. He scooped her up, checked the hallway once more, and carried her out the back door and down the fire escape stairs.

Shit! His car was parked in the front lot. He set Pen on the stairs, leaned her head against the railing, and peeked around the corner of the building. All seemed quiet in the twilight. Still, he needed to get his car over here.

What a pile of crap this day turned out to be! He shot a glance at Pen, who still seemed to be out cold, then made a casual dash to his car.

***

Pen came to with a bad case of the spins. Her tongue was dry and she sucked on it a little while she took in her situation. Jason leaned against the corner of the building, looking towards the front parking lot. She dropped her jaw and closed her eyes when she saw him turning in her direction. The metal railing bit into her temple, but she kept her head in position and worked out her next step.

As soon as she heard his footsteps jogging away, she sprang up, thankful she’d parked where she had. She looked in Jason’s direction as she sprinted towards the Duster. His eyes met hers, just as they both climbed into their respective drivers’ seats.

Pen already had the keys in the ignition and was cranking the engine when she slammed her door. She could hear him following suit. At least she’d had the foresight to back into her parking spot, a piece of training he’d obviously forgotten. She slammed the shifter into first and popped the clutch, tromping on the gas.

She needed to hit the desert, where she’d have open space to maneuver and no witnesses, time to get into a defensible position. And all her gear was still upstairs.

“Crap!” She pounded the steering wheel and dodged slower traffic. She’d have to go back there. Sloppy, sloppy. No damn good. Good thing she always kept a spare.

A glance at the rear view confirmed he was with her. Ironic as it was, she was going to kill him or die trying. She figured a small part of her would die either way.

She shot wide around a vehicle in the left-hand turn lane, and swung onto the freeway on-ramp. Jason was only a block behind. She fumbled for her sunglasses to block the last shots of sun and merged into the oblivious traffic, crossing all four lanes in an effort to gain some ground.

Jason stayed right on top of her. They kept at it for miles, until the off ramps began spreading out and leading only to back roads and three-pump gas stations. Pen leaned forward, fumbled under the seat for her ‘emergency’ weapon and wedged it beneath her leg.

Eventually there was nothing but desert, and a check of her gas gauge told her it was time to get this over with. Pen braced herself and veered off the road onto the hard- packed sand. Her tires shuddered over every crack and crevice. She bounced the front end through a series of divots and came to a screeching halt in a ravine. She flipped off the headlights the moment the tires stopped moving, giving her eyes a chance to adjust before darting out behind a pile of boulders. Between the Duster, the ledge of the ravine and the rocks, Pen figured she had as much cover as she was going to get, and knew it wouldn’t be close to enough.