Must Come Down

The picture caption read, 'Even a lawyer and her secretary have to eat sometime.'

'Her secretary? What's going on? Why is my ex-wife with someone who is the image of the woman I killed? How did she meet her? Who is she?' His mind boiled with questions and more questions. He had to have answers and as the days passed he knew he had to escape; to break out and find the woman who'd incarcerated him. That's when he formulated his escape plan.

It was time for him to act.

**********

Two months later, on a wet and windy March evening he found himself dressed in jogging clothes on the other side of the high wire fence. He squinted his eyes up at the guard towers; no sign of movement. He ran to the corner of the street that snaked away in the direction of the Potomac river and jogged for two miles. The streets looked much the same but he had memorized the route. As he rounded the corner of one street he saw the jeep with the keys in the ignition. Its shape was a relief to his aching limbs. The favors he had called in had been paid in full.

The following evening, knowing the police would be watching Harriet's home, he parked opposite her offices.

At around seven Harriet emerged with Marisa. He locked the vehicle and followed them on foot.

Robert had negotiated arrangements for a vehicle, a complete change of clothes and enough money to fund his disappearance. The new shoes pinched his right foot but otherwise the dark suit and raincoat allowed him to blend in with the early evening commuters heading home.

He followed the women into the Rock Hotel situated a few blocks from Harriet's offices.

"Convenient," he muttered.

He managed to overhear Marisa say to the receptionist, '...Twenty-six,' before he discreetly moved towards the bathroom area.

After washing his hands he decided on a course of action and left the building through the main entrance. Making his way around the back he waited in the shadows of the covered delivery area.

It was almost an hour later before a man dressed as a concierge pushed open a fire exit door and began to smoke a cigarette. Robert crept stealthily towards him grasping a discarded heavy piece of wood. He clubbed the man over the head and caught his unconscious body before it hit the ground.

He dragged him inside and shut the door. Looking around he found a broom cupboard that would hide the man's body and as fast as he could he changed his clothes for those worn by the concierge.

Once dressed, he bound and gagged the unconscious figure with strips of cloth he found in the cupboard. He made his way to the kitchen and surreptitiously picked up a tray containing some drinks and a few sandwiches. It was time to head for the elevator and room twenty-six.

The balding, middle aged male receptionist, glanced nonchalantly at Robert as he stood waiting for the elevator.

It arrived and he stepped inside, careful not to reveal his face.

**********

"Harriet," said Marisa, leaning against the bathroom doorway dressed only in her underwear, "shall we eat out tonight or arrange for something to be sent up, only I'm starving?"

"If you're that hungry, darling," said Harriet, absently filing her nails and dressed only in her dark blue, silk night robe, "then we'll have something sent up. What shall we have? I know, two steak sandwiches and two Caesar salads with some Californian white wine to lighten the evening. How does that sound to you?"

"It's making my mouth water. I'll phone room service now."

Marisa walked over to the bedside phone and gave them her order. As she replaced the receiver she asked, "Do you suppose Robert will try to contact you or are the police being their usual over-protective selves?"

"I'm not sure what he'll do but they said that up until the time of his escape he'd been a model prisoner. I wonder what made him suddenly decide to do this?"

Ten minutes later a gentle knock at the door startled them. Harriet went into the bathroom as Marisa quickly dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans and went to the door.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"Room service, ma'am," a male voice replied.

"Just a moment," she said, unlocking the door. Marisa moved aside to allow the waiter into the room and was immediately struck a solid blow on the back of the neck. She went out like a light.

Harriet heard the fall. "Marisa..." she said, emerging from the bathroom. "Robert...? You... What have you done to her?" cried Harriet, rushing to Marisa's aid.

"Quiet, bitch," said Robert, bending over Marisa, holding a knife to her throat. "Stay back. Get onto the bed and lay there on your back. Tell me where you keep your stockings?"

"Stockings? In the bedside cabinet. Second drawer... but Robert why are you here? What madness is this? The police..."

Angrily he said, "Quiet and I mean it," he said, finding four packages of unopened stockings. "I ask the questions. You answer."

He ripped open the wrapping and quickly bound her hands and feet to the bed. She lay spreadeagled, frightened and worried for Marisa who had not moved.

Robert lifted Marisa under the armpits and dragged her into the bathroom where he used the other two pairs of stockings to bind her hands and feet. He stuffed some cotton wool in a stocking and used it as a gag. He left her lying in the bath with her hands bound to the main taps.

The remaining stocking and cotton wool were used as a makeshift gag. He placed the gag on the table beside the bed.

"Now, you bitch," he said, straddling her body, "you're going to tell me what happened that evening when I killed that whore."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Robert, I wasn't there, remember?" She glared up at him.

He slapped her cheek, hard.

"I don't believe you. I think you were there, at the hotel. I believe you knew Sonia. It was something she said that evening, then, when I read the paper and saw the picture of you, together with that bitch I've just tied up in the bathroom, I knew there had to be more to it than just coincidence. Who is she and why are you two sharing a room?"

"She's Sonia's sister and the police thought it would be better if we shared a room to make it easier for them to stake-out," said Harriet, aware that if she told him now of her affair with Marisa, then by implication he'd know she'd also had an affair with Sonia.

Robert viciously slapped her other cheek. Harriet cried out at the stinging pain.

"The truth bitch," he growled in her face. "I know when you lie to me. From the moment we met I lived with your lies, half-truths and whispered innuendo. Robert can't father a child," he mimicked. "Didn't you realize that Robert's impotent? Well he isn't, bitch. It's you who can't have children but you wouldn't admit to it being your fault. Oh no, much to proud for that to happen..." He wrenched aside her gown and released the clasp on her front opening brassiere. Her firm breasts spilled out.

"So, Harriet are you feeling proud now. Are you going to tell me the truth or am I going to fuck the truth from you?"

"No Robert, please. I can't tell you what I don't know. Please don't do this. If I knew anything I would tell..." His fist cracked against her jaw. The force of the punch knocked her senseless. "Bitch," he cried, tearing her flimsy, high cut, cotton panties from around her waist and flinging them across the room.

Robert rolled off the bed in a rage and went into the bathroom to check on Marisa. She was still unconscious. In a rage Robert ripped the towel rail from the wall and was about to bring it down on her head when there was a knock on the outer door.

"Room service," said a male voice.

"Just a minute," he cried out, placing the rail beside the bath. He slipped out of the waistcoat and rushed into the bedroom. He quickly covered Harriet's nakedness with the bedspread and tied the gag to her mouth, then opened the door slightly. "Can I take it from you here as my wife's fallen asleep on the bed and I don't want to disturb her? She's had a long day."

"Sure, no problem, sir," said the fair haired young man, handing him the tray.

"Thanks, oh, here..." said Robert, handing him a ten dollar bill.

The concierge gushed, "Thank you sir. Have a good evening."

Robert closed and locked the door. He set the tray on the floor and looked at the food. It had been a long time since his last full meal and he suddenly felt extremely hungry. In ten minutes he'd devoured everything. The wine acted like an aphrodisiac. He went to the bed and uncovered Harriet's nude body.

'Strange,' he thought, 'in all the time we were together she never once made love to me with the light on.'

He picked up the knife from the bedside table and slit along the sleeves of her dressing gown from her wrists to her shoulders. The gown slipped out easily from under her nudity as he pulled at its silkiness and dropped the ruined garment onto the floor.

Gazing at his former wife's nude body he appreciated that for a woman of forty-two she still possessed a remarkably trim figure. 'But then,' he thought, 'she's not had stretch marks or worry wrinkles from having children.'

He stripped off his remaining clothes and untied her gag. She moaned and rolled her head.

"Wake up, sleepy head," he said, roughly slapping her reddened cheeks.

Her eyes flew open and she groaned.

"No it's not a bad dream, Harriet it's real and it's going to get worse, a whole lot worse. Now tell me the truth."

"Nothing to tell," murmured Harriet. "Water. I must have a drink. Please Robert. Just a small drink of water."

"Nothing, until you start explaining. I meant what I said earlier Harriet, either you talk or I fuck you and, if I believe what I sense then it will be even more of a hardship for you to accept me inside you... after being so long... with a woman."

"I keep telling you there's nothing to explain. So, get on with it, Robert."

"I've a better idea, Harriet. If you don't respect your own body I wonder what it would feel like to watch while I make love to your secretary. Perhaps that will jog your memory?"

"No Robert," she pleaded. "Leave her out of this. What happens now is between you and me... as it always has been."

"Fuck you Harriet I'm the one who says what and who I fuck. Watch," he said, forcing the gag back into her mouth and retying the stocking behind her head.

Robert got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Minutes later he came back out carrying Marisa's body. She was now fully conscious. Her eyes betraying the inner fear she felt at their desperate situation. Marisa's eyes opened wider as he placed her head first over the arm of the sofa chair and undid her jeans belt. He yanked down the zip and pulled the jeans and her cotton panties down around her ankles. Using the knife he expertly slit up the back of her t-shirt. He unclasped her bra and cut away the remaining shirt fabric.

"Hmm, nice body babe," he quipped, cupping her breasts. "Lets have some great sex, like your sister and I did... before I killed her."

Marisa's muffled groan did nothing to dissuade Robert from continuing. He leaned his body against her rubbing his flaccid penis up between the valley of her pouting, slender buttocks.

"Harriet," he said, looking across at her horrified face, "watch me make love to your friend. Unfortunately it won't last long. I've not had sex for a very long time."

Robert's fingers probed between Marisa's thighs and found the entrance to her love tunnel. He licked his fingers and inserted them into her pussy. At the same time he squeezed her left nipple between his thumb and index finger. He delicately pulled the nipple away from her body using a circular motion.

She couldn't help herself and groaned as the intimate sensation worked its sexual magic on her clitoris. During her years on the streets she'd experienced rough sex before.

She continued to moisten. He continued to probe. He used the same technique on her other more sensitive breast.

Suddenly he released her and almost immediately she felt his head between her thighs, his tongue lapped wondrously at her clitoris, his hands clasped her hips.

She was now moaning continuously.

With his forefinger he used her juices to moisten her sensitive anal area. Marisa squirmed uncontrollably as he inserted first one then two fingers into her back passage. Her sexual excitement increased as he slipped the forefinger of his other hand into her licentious pussy. She bucked and rode these two sexual stimuli not caring what came afterwards, just living for the immediacy of the sweet, sensual sensations stirring in her hot, young body.

Robert stopped. He got up from the floor, turned around and, leaning into her, he pushed his hard erection up inside her deliciously tight, slippery pussy. They moaned together.

Harriet watched, as their movements became more animated, each approaching their climax. Marisa's vaginal muscles clenched and held him tightly. Suddenly they groaned in unison as they came together.

Robert relaxed his body over Marisa for a few moments then withdrew his limp penis. He went into the bathroom, used the toilet, then showered. As he walked back into the bedroom he found that Marisa had managed to get over to the bed and somehow they had removed one anothers gags. They were whispering and kissing tenderly.

"You're not conspiring together are you?" He questioned. "It's time for a little redemption Harriet." He quickly retied both gags and pulled up Marisa's pants and jeans. He slung her over his shoulder and put her back into the bathtub, retying her hands to the bath taps. He turned off the bathroom light and closed the door.

"So, Harriet," Robert said, clambering onto the bed and straddling her naked body once more, "it's time to talk. I want no more procrastination from you. What happened that evening?" He growled, ripping the gag over her head.

She told him.

Harriet embellished Sonia's lovemaking with teasing adjectives knowing it would wound his masculinity, stabbing at his prowess as a great 'Casanova.'

Listening to Harriet's story Robert's anger at how naive he had been to believe he could get away with murder coupled with Harriet's admitted lesbian relationships had an immediate effect once she had finished. His mind twisted like a bean tendril. It searched for another meaning to what had occurred. He did not want to hear anymore particularly from this woman's mouth. He picked up the pillow next to Harriet's head and pressed it down hard over her face. Harriet's body squirmed beneath him.

There was a brief flash of movement in the corner of his right eye. Something hit his head. Blackness.

**********

Harriet could not breathe. Her mind was spinning away from her.

'This is the end,' she thought. 'Release at last.' Then she felt Robert's body slump across her, then it rolled onto the floor. The darkness was removed and she gulped in as much air through her nose as she could.

Marisa stood beside the bed, her posture anxious, concerned. She removed Harriet's gag. "Harriet, are you all right?" she asked, her fingers tugging furiously at Harriet's bound hands.

"I'm... fine," gasped Harriet. "Just give me... a few moments... to get my breath."

"What happened to Robert?"

"I eventually managed to get free and used the towel rail from the bathroom to hit him over the head," replied Marisa. "He should have an enormous headache when he wakes up."

"He looks dead to me," said Harriet with one hand free, looking over the edge of the bed. "You'd better check."

Marisa felt for a pulse.

Her eyes widened as she stared back up at Harriet and said, "No. No pulse, Harriet. He's dead," she gasped.

"Keep calm, Marisa. It was either my death or his. No jury will convict you. You did the only thing you could. You saved my life. I owe you."

"What do we do now Harriet?"

"We stick to a story but one without the sex angle. It will save some of our dignity and, besides it would only complicate matters. Do you agree?"

"Yes, I agree. I don't want the American public finding pleasure in what happened here this evening. I believe justice has been done."

They talked about what they would say, then Harriet phoned the police.

When they arrived they found the two women dressed in casual clothes. Both their stories matched the events of that evening and no charges were brought against Marisa.

As Harriet and Marisa stood in the hotel lobby watching Robert's body being carried down from their hotel room in a black plastic body bag, Harriet's thoughts turned to similar events a few years ago.

Ironically it was Marisa and not Harriet, who avenged Sonia's death.