Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [21]
I stopped and turned her over. I was stuck in awe. In front of me was a perfectly rounded ass. I hesitated for a second before I slowly eased myself into her. With every inch inserted, there was an ‘ah’ until my thighs collided with perfection, drawing me even deeper inside. It didn’t take long until I realized that I was a mere mortal. I collapsed quickly behind the great wonder of humanity. I was a spent and broken man.
“Donald, can you hand me the plastic bag next to my hand bag? Donna said as if nothing had just happened. She was the consummate business-woman.
With great labor, I rose off the bed, feeling the effects of not being an eighteen-year-old man. Two orgasms for a man in his thirties were all she wrote. There are men who could tell you that they could go all night, but most will explain the pointlessness of it all. To not know a beautiful woman is to love her, but knowledge always comes with understanding. I understood Donna; therefore love was nonexistent.
I brought the bag back and threw it beside her.
Donna almost jumped off the bed. “Be careful.”
“Why? What’s in there?” I picked up on the concern in her voice.
She lifted the bag that had settled next to the white pillow. She reached into it and pulled out a long, slim, surgical knife. The eight-inch blade was sharpened on either side. She held the knife in her hand and twirled it around.
“What’s that for?”
“Kathleen wants you to use it in the robbery,” Donna said, continuing to play with the blade of the knife.
“Hold the fuck up. What do you mean, she wants me to use it in the robbery?”
“Relax, Donald. Let me explain.” Donna sounded like a schoolteacher repeating something to a hard-headed kid.
“What do you mean by that?” I was getting pissed.
“That white bitch is not in this robbery for money. Her intention is to make certain that her husband never leaves her. And the only way she knows how to do that is to cripple the motherfucker. Now here is the fucking knife.” Donna handed me the knife.
“Cripple!” I looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not crippling anyone. I don’t like white people, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to go around killing them. All I want is some money to take care of my business.”
“Donald, this is no ordinary two-dollar holdup. We’re talking about twenty million dollars. Now I would cut your balls off for that kind of money so take it easy and listen.”
I grabbed a chair and dragged it to the foot of the bed. Donna was the one in charge and the quicker I understood that the better I would be able to play the game. At that point, I was the triggerman and she was the mob captain. But fuck if I was going to stay the triggerman. “All right, enlighten me.”
“Kathleen doesn’t want you to stab her husband. You think she trusts a black man to do that to her husband. You might kill the bastard and that will take this thing to another level.”
“Now I’m totally lost. I guess four years of engineering is not helping me here,” I said to Donna.
“Kathleen was one year away from graduating from med school when she met Peter, her husband. At that time, she was also dating a surgeon. The surgeon had just graduated from med school. The surgeon was making money but not enough to buy Kathleen a brand-new Porsche. After a continent-hopping romance, Kathleen and Peter got married. From there, they tried the pregnancy thing, but Peter was shooting blanks and Kathleen didn’t want any of the other procedures.”
I put my hand over my mouth and pretended to yawn. While Kathleen’s story was interesting, I didn’t have time for it.
“I get the hint,” Donna said to me. “The point is that Kathleen will stab her husband. You’re merely carrying the knife to her. Donald, you don’t have to do much for the twenty million