She came slowly out of the ocean, rising like some blonde nautical Goddess from the tumbling white spray. The crystal turquoise waters undulated, with tumultuous white crested waves of the tide gently crashing against the shore.
He didn’t notice.
Jack was too busy putting the finishing touches to his report for Senator Michaelson. He sat with a MacBook Pro on his raised knees just beyond the wet sand line of the otherwise deserted beach. Just off to the right about a thousand yards, in the near distance bordering the tree line, was the wood cabin he’d rented for the week. Jack closed his black eyes to the data on his laptop for a moment, as he savoured the soothing sound of the waves rolling in near his bare feet.
Wanda sauntered across the dark wet sand, onto the dry pastel pink beach. She came towards him, shaking the warm ocean from the tresses of her golden hair. Her tawny tanned skin shone, slick with the sheen of ocean spray that reflected sunlight, as it played on her delicately defined muscles.
‘Hey! You said no work on this trip, liar!’ Her tone was light, playful. He smiled never taking his eyes from the screen.
‘I know, I know, but I thought your swim would’ve lasted a little longer.’ He laughed.
‘Caught you red-handed, huh?’ Morensky finished up, hit save and snapped the screen shut.
‘It’s finished now.’ He looked up at her with a smirk.
Wanda stood before him in the deep dry sand. Her white bikini seemed to shine in the late afternoon sun, like her flaxen hair. Her little toes were kicking back and forth, playing with the hot powdery beach. It clung to her damp ankles and calves. He looked into her sapphire eyes and sighed, content for the first time in a long time.
‘The weather seems to agree with you.’ He smiled as she ran a hand through her soaked hair, untangling some unruly strands.
‘I love it here. It’s so peaceful!’ She said breathlessly, looking around her and taking in the unspoiled beauty of their surroundings. Morensky licked dry salt from his lips carried on coastal air. He breathed deeply, himself relishing the clean crisp atmosphere of the coastline.
‘Me too.’ He said. She moved a little closer and he found his eyes irresistibly drawn to the mound between her legs, as her hips drew level to his face. A trickle of water traced itself from her breasts to the delicate recess of her almond shaped navel, before dropping beneath her bikini briefs. He groaned inwardly. She spoke and he was suddenly back from his thoughts.
‘I should dry off, and change.’
‘Go ahead. No one’s watching.’ He looked up at her again, that filthy smirk flashing across his face again. She couldn’t see his bottomless eyes through the Oakley shades. She let her eyes drift over the ridged solid muscles of his bare chest, on display in the sunlight. Despite the two days of stubble on his chin his jet black hair was clean, untied for once, framing his narrow face as it picked up bits of sunlight. He was a beautiful man. At least to her. Wanda clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes.
‘I’m not going to strip for you, here.’
‘Why not? This stretch of beach comes with the lodge. I checked before I rented it.’ A genuine smile stretched all the way to his eyes again, chasing the lascivious one away.
In the three days they’d been on the island, Wanda had never seen Jack smile so much. It’d been just over two years since they’d met. Twenty-four months of fear at deceiving her Madam, laced with intermittent joy at being with the man who’d broken her in. The man she’d reluctantly fallen hard for and so very fast. . .
Wanda had received gold, jewels, diamonds and even two offers of marriage from the many wealthy Benefactors Lake had leased her to. In spite of all that, she’d never been treated more as a complete equal, or felt as truly loved, by any Benefactor, as she did by Jack Morensky.
He just wouldn’t admit any of it to her.
‘You had this all planned, huh?’ She said, crossing her arms over her breasts in mock disgust, the smile never leaving her.
‘Sort of. It’s best to plan these things in advance. That way you avoid disappointment.’
‘You could never disappoint me!’ She found herself gushing.
With that revelation the smile slowly faded from Morensky’s face. . .
Starcrosse knew she’d upset him in some way, that afternoon on the beach. They’d taken a slow walk along the shoreline back to the lodge he’d rented. Jack had stowed his laptop and other work gear way in the rented yellow Gallardo parked on the overgrown blacktop, behind their holiday home, that led back to the main road. He’d hired the Lambourgini convertible from Hertz Executive in Hamilton City after they’d arrived. They’d taken a leisurely cruise to Bermuda from Golgotha, instead of taking a flight. Daniel had given Jack the use of his motor yacht. The 118 Wallypower was anchored in Hamilton Harbour.
Once back at the whitewash panelled lodge she peeled herself out of the bikini and took a long warm shower. When she emerged from the steam, forty minutes later, she found the small two seat dining table by the open window laden with food. The bay window opened out onto the oak decked veranda that ran right around the cabin and extended onto the beach at the front.
‘What’s this?’ She said delightedly, as she finished tying the white chiffon sarong around her waist. She headed over to where he sat; a half drained glass of whiskey in his right hand , one of his favourite Egyptian cigarettes glowing in the other.
‘I ordered dinner.’ He said absently, staring out the window at the ocean as it deepened in hue, hastened by the onset of evening.
‘Where from?’ She asked breathing in the mouth-watering aroma of spiny lobster, fish chowder, barbecued chicken and sardines. There was fresh tomato salad and king prawns also. In an ice bucket by her already pulled out chair was a bottle of Bollinger. She grinned as memories of their first night flooded back with the sight of the champagne. Jack had rejected the dark rum and ginger beer concoction they served to island tourists in favour of his usual Wild Turkey.
‘A fine seafood restaurant in Hamilton. They also deliver.’ Was all Morensky said, as he took a draw on his cigarette. He blew the fragrant smoke out into the gathering dusk.
‘I see.’
They ate in silence. Well, Wanda ate. Jack had a few prawns with his whiskey and cigarettes. She caught him half smiling at her gusto, as she tore apart the chicken legs and marinated sardines, demolishing half the bottle of Bollinger along with them. By the time she’d finished her meal the ocean outside had faded from crystal green to deep blue-black with the dusk that had rolled across the clear sky. The warm wind had risen with the arrival of night. It gently shook the fronds of the nearby palm trees, and blew the sand along the deserted beach in front of the cabin.
‘I’ve got something for you.’ He suddenly said, producing a large gift wrapped box from its hiding place under the table. Her sapphire eyes widened and shone in the flickering candlelight. He was tempted to think she’d never looked more beautiful. That would’ve been untrue. She always looked that beautiful.
‘It’s your birthday present.’ He further qualified passing the present to her. ‘I know it’s two days late, but I wanted to give it you when we’d settled in here.
‘Thank you Jack.’ She gushed hugging the box to her chest. ‘If it’s from you I’m sure I’ll love it.’ She went on to say, before enthusiastically ripping the paper off, like a child on Christmas morning. Underneath the gift wrap was a deep blue square velvet box. Wanda paused to look at Morensky, who just smoked languidly with no outward flicker of emotion to betray his thoughts. Her heart had leapt in her chest at seeing velvet beneath torn paper, with the assumption a woman gets with a velvet box. But this one was too big to hold an engagement ring. She quickly cursed herself a fool. There wasn’t a chance in hell Madam Lake would let her leave, even if what followed was any kind of proposal. Not that it ever would be. . .
‘Well,’ He said without impatience. ‘What’re you waiting for? Open it.’
Wanda smiled, taking a deep breath as she flipped open the box. Then she gasped at what she saw. The name embossed inside in gold leaf was Bvlgari.
That said it all.
Resting on a velvet cushion ring was the most elegant gold and jewelled necklace she’d ever seen. ‘Do you like it?’ He asked quietly as she just sat, dumbstruck, staring into the box on her lap. She looked up at him after a long moment, tears brimming in her eyes, candlelit gold glowing under her chin.
‘Are you shitting me? I adore it!’ She gasped, unable to speak properly. Morensky merely nodded, glancing out at the ocean as he stood up.
‘I’m glad.’ He said simply.
She hadn’t moved so he got up and walked around her chair, stood behind her and reached over. Taking the heavy necklace out of the box he gently fastened it around her neck. He then took her silently by the hand and led her to the long mirror on the far wall opposite the roaring fireplace. Starcrosse gazed at herself in the full length mirror, as Morensky stood behind, head and shoulders towering over her.
‘I love it.’ She repeated in a hoarse whisper, glancing from the necklace to him in the reflection.
‘Happy twentieth.’ He whispered back. As she admired her birthday gift a little longer, he leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulders.
‘You look beautiful.’ Was all he said before stepping away.
They finished the rest of their meal. Morensky was silent having returned to the dining table. This confused Wanda, as he often had in their trysts following that first date at the Grand Hyatt. He would seem to be getting close, then at the last minute pull away – frightened by the emotional intimacy. Physical intimacy he had no problem with. . .
When she could take the uneasy silence between them no longer she spoke.
‘What’s the matter?’ He blew smoke and shrugged.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘No, it’s most definitely something – I said earlier.’ He looked at her.
‘When?’ He was stalling now.
‘On the beach, this afternoon. I said you could never disappoint me, and you clammed up.’ Jack steadily rose to his feet and pushed his wicker chair under the table. The sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline was getting louder as the wind rose.
Morensky had taken his wraparounds off and was tying his long hair in a pony tail. His black eyes raked over her body and rested on her upturned face. Suddenly he held out a veiny hand to her.
‘Let’s go for a walk.’
‘Okay.’ She readily agreed, eager for the chance to try to draw something further out of him. They left the small table by the window laden with dinner’s detritus. It’d be cleaned up later, or in the morning by the maid. The leasing firm, who owned the lodge, employed one. She had to drive all the way out to the coast from town in her beat up Jeep. Wanda noticed Jack always left a few hundred dollars for her though.
Morensky had been a closed book, for the most part, to her ever since their incredible first night. From the moment she’d left his suite at the Hyatt Wanda had been drawn irresistibly back to the man who’d been selected as her first lover. Lake hadn’t known it, but what she’d unwittingly stirred desire for something more than the life of a pampered courtesan in Wanda’s heart. Morensky’s kindness and gentleness had shown her more than she’d ever known from a young life of seclusion at Lake’s stable of exotic beauties. This only precipitated her need for more. The man was so elusive. A self styled enigma – right down to the fact that he chose to live in perpetual darkness and solitude.
Their trip to Bermuda, between her contracts, was the first time she’d seen him wear a colour other than black. Jack had wandered the beach in shorts. He’d swam in the crystal turquoise ocean, worn his hair untied and billowing in the hot breeze. All this was a welcome sight. She liked to see Morensky relaxed and appearing to enjoy life for once, as opposed to walking around in his usual state of grim preparedness. The total lack of a deep furrowed frown on his forehead was also nice to see. Leaving The Black Metropolis behind must’ve had something to do with it. She hoped she’d been the second factor. Up until that afternoon, she’d not seen him look troubled once. That it was something she’d said prompting his partial withdrawal was surprising only in the way it made her heart ache. She had to know what was wrong, so that she could put it right.
Jack held her hand firmly, but said nothing, as he led them onto the beach. As they walked away from their retreat she said nothing, not quite sure how to broach the subject without making him withdraw further. His face was turned away from her, staring off into the distance or out at the ocean. Suddenly he spoke, just as she thought she’d conjured up the courage to speak.
‘It’s not your fault. What you said to me earlier reminded me of something I haven’t thought about in a long time. That’s all.’
‘That’s all? Jack tell me what’s wrong. I’d die if I hurt you.’ There was an underlying tremor in her voice that called out her sincerity to him. Underlying anguish was easy to spot in another, if you were no stranger to it yourself.
‘You said I’d never be able to disappoint you. Don’t be so sure about that. Sooner or later everybody disappoints somebody. I have in my time, believe me!’
Starcrosse smiled, brushing errant strands of blond hair from her sun kissed cheeks.
‘Like who? It’s okay, you can tell me. I want you to be able to tell me this stuff. You can tell me anything, I hope you know that!’ There was the anguish in her tone once more. It made the cruelty in him smile, even as he appreciated her for it. The emotions she exuded, seemingly from every pore, invaded his soul. It was so very hard not to love her, and he was fighting a losing battle on that score.
The moon was up, it’d faded into view as darkness stole over the island, chasing away another beautiful hot sunny day. Now it painted it’s shimmering stripe on the ocean from shoreline to horizon. The incoming tide tumbled over and over against the beach along which they walked, hand in hand. The crashing of waves filled Jack’s head, massaging his temples with soothing sound, as the scent of Wanda filled his nostrils. This combined with the sight of her sapphire eyes and golden hair made him want to cry. Talk about a sublime moment.
Morensky appreciated it as it happened. The rarity of a night like that was not lost on him, like it’s significance. He could’ve made Wanda his own at that moment, there on the pale pink sand, ghosted white by moonlight. The memory didn’t have to be conjured once the moment was gone. He wanted to be able to tell her everything, his life story – sorry as it was. He knew she so desperately wanted to hear it. So what was holding him back? What was he so afraid of? Was it the feeling of completeness he gained whenever he was with her, on top of her, inside her? He could bury the mess of his marriage to Sandy in her and love her the way she should be – by one man only, always. Even the pampered expensive life of a high class courtesan was worse than she deserved. He could give her a home, a family. So why didn’t he? When he thought about it the answer was simple. Same as it ever was.
Fear.
He’d been on his own for so long, playing the part of a husband scorned, the betrayed and disavowed cop. He’d actually got to enjoy the part, as Phil had so often said in argument. He sighed, shrugging his shoulders to loosen them up. He was feeling his muscles stiffen at the prospect of straight talk. The farthest journey begins with a single step, he thought. Better start walking then Jack, he thought next. He looked her straight in those bottomless blue eyes of hers, let go of her hand and gripped both her bare slender shoulders gently.
‘Not long before I met you I was a Special Interventionist with the GPD-‘ Wanda stopped him in his tracks.
‘I know all this, you told me the first night we met, remember?’
‘Yeah, I remember. I didn’t tell you I was court martialed. Dishonourably discharged for multiple counts of excessive deadly force and criminal negligence leading to the death of my partner.’
‘They kicked you out?’ She felt stupid for asking that the second the words left her mouth. For Jack her eyes held so much fascination they were almost painful to behold.
‘I screwed up on an operation I was heading up with Special Interventions Section. My enthusiasum for ‘getting my man’ made me sloppy and ultimately got someone I cared about a great deal killed in action. . .’
‘A lover?’ Starcrosse asked him, unblinking in the moonlight. He shook his head. ‘No, a friend. . .’ Morensky’s usually deep rasping voice got heavier with emotion as he trailed off. Her long blond hair seemed white the way it soaked up the moon. She was all the more breathtaking, pure to his eyes. she noticed his stare lingering, and flushed.
‘Don’t look at me that way.’ She asked.
‘What way?’
‘That way! Like I’m made out of gold or something.’ She gasped, turning away to watch the waves roll out of the dark.
‘I’m sorry. You look so beautiful in this light.’ He said before continuing with his original chain of thought. ‘We were close, very close. It came from having a similar attitude to the job we were doing, I think.’ He was in pain from the recollection. It was obvious.
‘Wanda suddenly cast her eyes to the sand beneath her bare feet. She was ashamed to have pushed him on what was so obviously still a deep wound.
‘I didn’t mean to push.’ She said without looking at him.
‘Yeah, you did. But it’s okay.’ Morensky cupped her chin in his right hand, lifted her face up to stare into her eyes again. He smiled sadly.
‘It’s time I told you these things anyway.’ She cocked her head to one side, trailing her blond hair on her tawny left shoulder.
‘Sure?’ God, she was so painfully beautiful to behold.
‘Positive. I’m cool with it. Trust me.’ And there was the sad smile again.
She was both relaxed and reassured immediately. He noticed the gathered tension evaporate within her in an instant. Her shoulders picked up the moonlight beautifully. He was on fire to lean in, kiss her unpainted lips. They started walking again, hand in hand, along the beach near the lapping waves.
‘Do you want to go on with this?’ She asked tentatively, searching his face. He nodded.
‘He was a New Haven cop. He’d transferred over from the NHPD/SIS the same month they partnered him with me. We developed a certain. . . rapport that got us equal acclaim and damnation with the Barbican Assembly. The public still isn’t keen on military policing in Golgotha, despite the sky high death toll and crime.’ They were running out of beach. Their walk had brought them to a large semicircular outcropping of blue-gray rock that jutted from the tree line of the nearby palm forest. The warm breeze coming from the dense palms nearby was both soothing and invigorating to the senses, an enjoyable paradox that ruffled their hair. Her eyes raked over him.
Morensky seemed at ease with himself and memories now. This in turn relaxed her also. She let him continue, anxious not to ruin his flow, in case he clammed up again. He went on.
‘We generated a lot of bad press in the media, over our uncompromising methods of intervention. I’d had enough of seeing comrades cut down in the line of duty. After my marriage broke down I decided to give some back. My closed cases went up as a result, but I killed more criminals and suspects than I brought in. The Barbican Assembly wanted my badge, but in spite of the adverse publicity Marshall Renfield knew he needed uncompromising Interventionists.
The PNC used me and my first uniformed partner Carmen DeNiro in a publicity campaign when we apprehended the killer of Philip Bruchen. He was some well-to-do musician son of a French Canadian politician. He’d recently married the youngest daughter of Canada’s Russian Ambassador.’ He referred to André DiSalle – Gabriella’s father.
‘The GPD used this high profile crime to boost ratings on the PNC and increase their public funding from the Barbican. DeNiro and I were decorated and promoted, she transferred to SWAT and I was recruited into SIS, to ‘follow in Daniel’s footsteps’ as Renfield put it.
Anyway my career in SIS was notorious, creating loads of political backlash. There was this really nasty serial killer I was assigned to track. My academy background was in psychological profiling. It’s how I started in SIS, as a behavioural profiler. So they thought I’d be the man to chase Doctor Harmon Sloane down.’
‘I remember that case. He was nicknamed The Heart Collector, wasn’t he?’ Wanda said. Morensky nodded and continued.
‘After three months and seven brutal homicides, we eventually tracked him to Steelville. My partner and I got separated en-route. Seems Dr. Sloane had hired some muscle to stop the GPD getting near him. My partner went on ahead and by the time I fought my way to him Sloane had killed them both with a magnesium chromide bomb.
I was temporarily blinded in the explosion, two flash-fried retina and a faulty visual cortex. My partner was blown apart in an explosion. All the coroner found was the charred remains of his arm. Sloane had apparently rigged his hideaway near the docklands with C7 explosives, in case the GPD ever got too close to him. I got there just in time to watch the place Sloane was holed up destroyed in the explosion. I barely escaped. With these to show for it.’ He pointed at his shades.
‘What exactly does flash-fried mean?’ She asked, clearly confused.
‘I don’t know exactly,’ Jack replied. ‘The police Ophthalmologist said it had something to do with the intense glare from the explosion knocking out my retinal ability to process light responses. The Mag flash damaged their ability to send information along the optic nerves to my visual cortex. The blindness was temporary. That wore off after about six weeks. The damage to my retinas was reduced by some pretty invasive surgery. A side effect, as you can see, was the lack of whites in my eyes.’ She looked on calmly as he took off the glasses and showed her the intimidating oily black sclera. ‘I look like they’ve been cut out of my head!’ He followed regretfully.
‘I wasn’t ever going to say anything.’ She protested. He raised a hand to silence her.
‘I know. Why do you think I rarely take these off?’ He held up the Oakley shades. ‘It freaks most people out to see them. That, and the pain is intense without the light filtering properties of these things.’
Starcrosse had heard enough. He opened his mouth to speak again but she put a finger to his lips to silence him.
‘I’ve heard enough. We came here to make good memories.’ He smiled and caressed her hair tenderly. ‘I have nothing but good memories when I’m with you.’ He said.
‘Shhh, no more talking,’ She whispered as another wave crashed the shore behind them. The white lycra vest she wore clung to her. The chiffon sarong around her waist billowed in the fluctuating breeze, showing flashes of her matching white thong beneath. Night wind whipped her hair about her face in the moonlight – breathtaking.
‘What do you want to do now? It’s getting chilly.’ He said.
Wanda stepped forward slowly and stroked his bare chest exposed through his shirt that hung open. Her nails raking his skin sent shockwaves exactly where she wanted them to go. His arms slipped around her slender waist, strong hands stroking her delicately sloping hips.
‘Guess. . .’ She purred, looking up at him. Her Lapis stare hypnotising him once more. He untied her sarong and let it drop to the sand. The breeze rolling along the sand picked up the paper thin garment and carried it away along the beach. Niether of them noticed. She immediately removed her vest, ripping it off over her head with one hand as her other stroked his thickening cock. Her bare ample breasts looked even more beautiful, exposed in pale moonlight. He smiled as Wanda slipped off her thong. That too was dropped on the sand. Suddenly she was standing naked in the dark, wearing only the Bvlgari necklace.
Darkgingerbread 