Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [74]
As expected, the business district was almost deserted by 7:30 p.m. A few stragglers in business suits were the only remnants of a city that had tens of thousands of people on the streets about five hours ago. I had parked my car about a half-mile away from the Atlantic Avenue train station in Brooklyn. There were plenty of parking spaces available on the street after five-thirty, unlike early in the morning when you had to get downtown by seven-thirty to get a spot. The walk to the train station was uneventful; with the exception of a few young white women giving me the once-over. I felt flattered by their attention but the timing wasn’t right. Ten minutes after getting into the train station, I was on my way to Manhattan in a brand-new train.
I walked up and down the street, waiting for the call from Donna. It finally came about twenty minutes later. The street lights had come on to illuminate the business district as I made my way to Edna Street. I walked with confidence but not hurriedly because the human eyes are always attracted to abnormal behavior. I wanted to be another faceless white businessman on his way home from a long day at the office. The plan was for me to be on the opposite side of the street when Kathleen and her husband made their way down the street. There was an old apartment building that was being totally renovated. Donna had identified that building because there was only one bulb illuminating an entrance about twenty feet in length. It was there that I was going to make my move. I waited at the opposite end of the street from where Kathleen and Peter would be coming. The old apartment building was about thirty feet from me.
Kathleen looked stunning in a short, black, formfitting dress. As she walked with Peter, the joyful look on her face reflected a woman in total bliss. She saw me as soon as she turned onto the block and took her husband’s spare hand and laid it on her butt. He squeezed her ass as she stuck her tongue into his ear. I could only imagine what she was saying to him. The plan was for Donna to crush a Viagra pill and slip it into his drink before Kathleen arrived for a surprise visit. The Viagra pill was to ensure that pleasure came before responsibility. Peter knew what he was carrying and he knew what would happen to him if he fucked up.
I watched them coming down the street, Kathleen all over her husband, rubbing the front of his pants and kissing on his ear. When they reached the front of the building that was being renovated, Kathleen turned her husband around as I walked down the street until I was directly opposite them. I had confidence in Kathleen that she would not allow Peter to turn around. She pulled on Peter’s free hand as she tried to entice him to go into the passageway. I stood there, looking around, a few droplets of sweat coming down my forehead. Finally, pleasure overruled responsibility and Peter followed his wife into the passageway. I quickly walked across the street and before I entered the darkness of the passageway, I had the two-by-four in my hand. I walked slowly and quietly. I heard groans before I was able to see Peter, his back to me and his pants down to his ankles. The briefcase was hanging loosely from his hand by the gold handcuffs. From experience, I knew that Kathleen was a pro and my dick started to harden thinking about what she could do to me.
I lifted the two-by-four and came down hard on the side of Peter’s head. He crumpled to the ground. I knelt down and quickly unlocked Peter’s handcuffs. I deposited the briefcase into mine and took out the blow torch.
“Before you do that, give me the gloves and the knife,” Kathleen said. I gave her