Raoul's First Murders Ch. 01

"Oh, don't worry," Emma laughs, letting go of his dick to rub his stomach and chest. "You've taken care of them."

"I want to know all about it later, but right now I need this bath and I'm very hungry."

Emma looks up at him, disappointed. She fondles his ball sack, hoping to change his mind.

"Please," he says, beginning to cry. "I need to eat something soon."

"Okay," she concedes, shrugging. "We'll get you some food."

—————————————

As he soaks alone in the tub, a towel wrapped tightly around his left arm, the water slowly turning pink, he thinks over the events of the past eight or so hours.

His sisters and cousins had begged him not to go. Now there's even a chance he'll never see them again as a free man. He needs to get home to see them again before the cops get him. Just to tell them he's sorry, and he loves them.

He can never tell them what he did.

He begins to think of himself as a murderer. The thought feels like a massive weight of dark shame surrounding a tiny shining kernel of immense pride.

He wets his face so that Emma and Sophia won't be able to see that he's been crying, and then he lets himself go. He closes his eyes, and just lets himself feel all the sadness he can. He's got to let it out so he can think clearly.

He relives the fight again, seeing each victim's soul glowing like smoke in the blue light of the bar, left behind by a falling body.

His past comes to him.

He feels poor Amy, Amy whom he loved, still loves, Amy wherever she is, the ghost of Amy, still beautiful, sad for him for the guilt and shame he feels, sad for the punishment and loneliness to come. If only he had Amy, if only....

Then his father's ghost appears, berating him as it always does. "Why, Raoul, why?" it asks, the voice thundering with disappointment. "What's wrong with you? Why can't you just behave yourself?"

"Fuck off," Raoul tells him, as he always does. "Fuck off. If you'd been here, or if you'd ever understood me and helped me, maybe this wouldn't have happened. So fuck off, you self-righteous fucking prick."

He goes on, taking it all out on his father's ghost. His own soul rises, attacks his father.

"Fuck the fuck off, you piece of motherfucking shit. I did everything without you and I'll continue doing everything without you. You motherfucking piece of self-righteous shit. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you...." Every word a jab, a hook, a kick, a knee. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you...."

Smug and disgusted, his father's ghost eventually flees Raoul's relentless curses.

But to his mom's silent, mourning ghost, he can only say, "I'm sorry, Mom, I'm so sorry." She tries to touch him, to comfort him, to assure him that she forgives him and loves him, but she can't reach him through his guilt and shame.

Finally, bewildered as ever by her wild son, she too disappears, going back with his father to wherever they come from, wherever they go.

Then he's fighting again.

It's so calm. Everything is in slow motion, yet still a blur, and he feels deep peace. He's like a conductor in an orchestra, every movement of his body calling forth dramatic music. Cymbals crash as his punches and kicks connect, bodies fall gracefully to the accompaniment of warm strings.

He feels no guilt about the brass knuckles, or that the men he fights are not, in a sporting sense, worthy opponents. On the contrary, horns and woodwinds celebrate each man's fall because they're nameless villains who deserved to die. He's the angel of judgment, the angel of death, meting out divine justice accompanied by a celestial choir. Even the dead join the chorus of praise.

And he's invincible. Not only bottles and ashtrays and chairs but knives and swords and bullets bounce harmlessly off his bronze body, tinkling like pizzicato strings.

Then the sirens sound. Now he's in front of the club, seeing the cops arrive. The lights flash red and blue, so bright he has to squint.

But instead of cops, Todd and his brothers get out of the cars, bleeding and bruised.

"You're fine," they smirk, limping towards him malevolently. "Don't worry. We can't hurt you. You have nothing to be afraid of."

Raoul glares to warn them, but they put on mirrorshades to hide their eyes, trying to look tough.

In the reflection, however, he doesn't see himself.

There's something wrong with what he sees. Something very wrong.

He bends down to look more closely. "We can't hurt you," they sneer, with vicious sarcasm.

The image in their glasses comes into focus.

It's his sisters and cousins and aunts and grandmothers. They're at home, sitting in the living room as they were last night when he left for the club. "Where's Raoul?" they're asking, sweet and innocent. "Why hasn't he come back to us? He said he'd be careful. What will we do without him? What will happen to us?"

The doorbell rings.

They all look up. "Who could that be? Maybe it's Raoul."

Sam and Reza open the door.

"Hi," they say, seeing these three strange men. "Are you Raoul's friends?"

"Yes," Todd smiles, as he and his friends slip their own brass knuckles on. The short one, apparently named J. B., grips a K-Bear knife. "Can we come inside?"

"Of course!" his Grannie Rosa calls. "Come on in!"

"It's too bad Raoul's not here to see you," Auntie Wei says.

"Yes," the men laugh, drawing back their fists. "Yes, that is too bad."

—————————————

Raoul wakes up, violently startled.

He seems to hear the echoes of a scream fading in the little bathroom, and he almost jumps out of the tub before he realizes — it was just a dream.

Taking a deep breath, he settles back into the tub.

The girls appear together.

"Are you okay?" they say, running into the room. "You sounded hurt!"

"I'm okay," he assures them. "Did you hear me?"

"Of course we did!"

He laughs. "I just fell asleep and had a bad dream. That's all."

"We're almost done with breakfast," Candy tells him. "Sorry it's taking so long. Mom insisted on steak pho and spring rolls. She says that's what American men like."

"It smells amazing."

"And the laundry's almost done," Emma adds. "And nobody's bothered your bike."

"Thank you, girls," he sighs. "You're helping me so much."

"But isn't there anything else we can do?" Emma asks.

Before he realizes what she means, the girls have kneeled next to the tub, Sophia stroking his right forearm and Emma stroking his thigh.

"You know it's free for you, right?" Sophia whispers.

"Yeah, you idiot," Emma teases. "We just like you is all. You did so much for us last night."

"You saved my life!" Sophia smiles up at him. "Let me do something nice for you."

Raoul smiles at them. He had completely forgotten that they are prostitutes.

But suddenly they're beautiful. He could use the distraction. Even his arm seems to have stopped bleeding.

"How about you towel me off?" he suggests, pushing himself up.

But his balance isn't good. He can barely stand up. There's no question of letting them fuck him.

"You can give me a blow job if you want."

"Okay!" Sophia cheers and Emma gives his dick a celebratory squeeze.

"Take your shirts off though," he tells them. "I want to see your tits again."

"Only our shirts?" they tease, giggling.

—————————————

This is not Raoul's first time with two girls, but rarely has he been with two who know what they're doing so well. He doesn't even have to give them instructions. They take turns kissing, licking, and sucking his shaft, teasing it with their nipples and titfucking him, licking and caressing his balls, rubbing their hands on his abs and his butt.

"Do you feel better?" Emma coos, looking up at him.

"Oh, fuck," he affirms. His head is pounding painfully, but he needs them to go on. He tries to focus on what they're doing for him, just for a few moments of not feeling afraid.

Somewhere in his mind is the thought that this might be his last time. He imagines jacking off in the Canadian woods for the next fifty years.

"He's getting close," Sophia grins. "Where do you think he wants to cum?"

"Where do you want to cum?" Emma asks, softly scratching his scrotum with her fingernails.

"He should cum on our faces," Sophia suggests.

"Would you like that, Raoul?" Emma asks.

"Yes." He barely even knows what they've said.

"He's so close," Sophia says. After another suck-pump, she tells Emma, "Open your mouth like this. Try to catch it."

"Give us your cum," Emma begs, petting his balls.

"Please," Sophia agrees, softly stroking his cock. "Lots of it. All over our faces."

"In our mouths," Emma giggles.

"We'll rub it on each other's tits," Sophia promises as Raoul's body tenses.

"Cum," Emma coos, smiling up at him with her tongue out.

"Yes, cum," Sophia coos, also smiling up at him with her tongue out.

"Cum, cum, cum," they chant, smiling.

Finally he does. He watches the first squirt hit the bridge of Sophia's nose. She flinches away, and Emma sticks out her tongue to catch the oozing cum. But each pulse wracks his body and beats against the inside of his skull.

"We did it," Sophia giggles, looking at Emma.

"Yeah." Emma touches Sophia's cheek with a finger. "You have his cum on your face." She licks her finger, "Oh, yummy!"

"Give me some too!" Sophia says, licking Emma's cheek.

"Put it on your tits," Emma reminds her.

"You do it," Sophia says, thrusting them out.

Emma wipes one finger from each hand on Sophia's face and then rubs his cum into her nipples. "Your boobs are so pretty," she giggles.

Sophia dances a little, jiggling them. "His jizz will make 'em bigger."

"Really?" Emma laughs, rubbing it into her own nipples. "I need it more than you do."

"Here you go," Sophia says. "If you lick it off my nipples, it will make them grow."

Raoul enjoys the show, of course, and for at least a minute he manages not to think about what he's done and what awaits him and his family in the future, but finally he has to close his eyes and lean back.

"Oh, fuck, ladies," he groans. "You're wonderful, but my head is killing me."

"Breakfast ready!" Sophia's mom calls. Something in her voice tells Raoul that she has some idea what he and her daughter and Emma have been doing.

"Just wrap a towel around yourself," Sophia instructs him. "Lord knows my mom won't care. You're apparently the only man she's seen in years."

—————————————

They sit on thin pillows on the floor around a small table. The girls, apparently unwilling to stop touching him, sit next to him, each with a hand on his leg.

Raoul makes the chef very happy, putting away three full bowls of pho with lavish compliments between slurps. (He has learned that one way to make women happy is to eat a large amount of their food.)

At one point in the meal, Sophia whispers to Emma, "Jesus, his stomach is bigger than his cock!"

"Almost," Emma nods.

With the bleeding mostly stopped (his arm still is leaking), and the bath, and a bit of sleep, and the blowjob, and especially the food, Raoul's thoughts begin to clarify themselves. In fact, it seems, the more he eats, the simpler things become.

First of all, he has to find out what actually happened. Phil's probably dead but he won't know until he knows. Maybe he killed a dozen men, maybe he didn't kill any. Until he knows for sure one way or the other, he just needs to calm down.

Second, he can't remember exactly what Scott said, but it was something about Raoul not having anything to worry about. He recalls the gratitude and pride in Scott's eyes when he helped him up from the floor after chasing away the guys that had attacked him. He'd made Scott's day, alright. Rescued from a mob by Boss Badoss — or, in Scott's terms, Boss Badass. So the Khans will help him, and maybe they really can take care of this for him.

If they can't, well, he'll deal with that, but for now, again, he just needs to calm down and find out what his situation actually is.

Third, though he might actually have to worry about Todd and his brothers, they don't know where he lives. At least not yet. And they're not going to get up to anything for several days.

Eventually they'll be done licking their wounds, if they're alive anyway, and then... well, who knows, but for now he has at least a day or two to figure out how to deal with them, so, yet again, he just needs to calm down.

Meanwhile — it seems like a movie he's seen ages ago — he has to deal with Scarlett's silliness today as well.

It feels too remote to think about. His head feels as if it's swelled to twice its size, and his left forearm has turned into pure pain. He begins to wonder if he needs stitches after all.

What will he say in the emergency room?

He thinks of stupid Scarlett giving herself away by acting guilty when her mom appeared in the room.

He's always been cooler than that. He can do this. He just has to go on living as normally as he can.

For example, his family must be worried and if he doesn't let them know he's okay, one of them will eventually think to call Easy Riders to find out about him.

"I need to call my sisters," he tells Sophia. "Can I use your phone?"

"Of course!"

She brings it to him (it has a long cord from the wall) and he dials the number.

"Hello?" he hears his second-cousin Tina say.

"Hi," he says.

"Raoul! Everybody! It's Raoul!"

Cheers erupt in the background as if he'd been gone for a week.

"Oh, thank God!" Tina says. "We've been worried sick!"

"I told you not to worry."

"You said we could start worrying at nine, and it's already nine thirty!"

"But I'm fine," he laughs. "Well, almost fine."

"Almost? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Calm down. I tried to ride home when I shouldn't have. I'd had too much to drink and I fell off my bike."

"Oh no! Where are you?"

"I'm at a friend's house. She lives nearby so I came here."

"Nearby where? Is it Emma?"

"No."

"Do we know her?"

"I don't think so."

"How do you know her?"

"Tina, listen, I have a bit of a cut on my arm —"

"A bit of a cut?"

"— so I need to go to get some stitches —"

"Stitches?"

"Christ, Tina. Is Sam or Reza there?"

"I'm sorry, I'll stop. But we're literally so happy you're okay, we're all crying!"

"Put Sam or Reza on."

"I'm sorry, Raoul," Tina whines.

"It's okay, Tina. I'm not upset at you. But I need to talk to Sam or Reza."

"Okay, fine. Here you go. I love you, Raoul! We all do!"

"I love you too, Tina. I love all of you."

There's some shuffling sounds.

"Raoul?"

It's Sam and she sounds reasonably calm.

"Thank goodness. Tina was having a conniption. Are they going to be okay?"

"They were just worried. You should've seen them. I don't think any of them got any sleep."

"I bet. Fierce tears cascading down fiery cheeks."

"About like that. So how are you?"

"I fell off my bike, got a bit banged up, but I need to get some stitches."

"Okay."

"Just wanted to let you know not to worry."

"Thank you, Raoul, we all appreciate that. Nothing broken?"

"Not on me."

"On your bike?"

"It'll be okay."

He's not even trying to fool her. They both know that she knows that he's lying, but the beautiful thing about Sam and Reza is that they trust him to have a reason if he lies to them, and they will repeat his lie to the rest of the family for him, and somehow with their help everyone will believe it.

"Okay, well, we have some news for you too."

"Oh, good. I need some news."

"You got some flowers," Sam tells him. "And a card. Want us to open it and read it to you or do you want to come home and read it yourself?"

"Read it to me."

"They're lovely flowers. Pretty blue and violet tulips. The card says, 'Please meet me at the Chateau Marmont before you come over today. Ask for Jane Doe.' That's all it says."

Raoul thinks about that.

"Interesting," Reza notes, apparently standing right next to Sam, "that it says 'Please.' I wouldn't expect a card like this to say 'please.' It seems a little too desperate."

"Yeah," Raoul agrees mindlessly, trying to work out how he's going to arrange his day in light of this. Then everything seems to fall together like one of those videos of glass breaking being played in reverse.

He blinks, going over it once more. Unless he's overlooking something, it all fits together like a puzzle.

"Who do you think that's from?" Sam asks.

"Who do you think?" he asks sarcastically.

"I couldn't say." This is meant to remind him that they have an audience.

"Thank you for letting me know. I really needed that information."

"Raoul, are you really okay?"

"Really am." In fact, he thinks, I'm doing much, much better now. "So I guess I'll be at Scarlett's all day after I get the stitches. I'll call again around dinner time to check in. But I probably won't be back until late tonight. Or even tomorrow."

"We love you, Raoul."

"I know you do, Sam. I love you too. Tell all of them that I love them."

He thinks about warning them, but then he remembers: no, it's too soon for that. Not even the police will be there for several hours at least. So instead he ends with, "Tell the nervous Nellies to relax."

Then he goes back for a fourth bowl of pho.

—————————————

Sophia has gone to check on his clothes.

"Emma," Raoul whispers while she's gone. "What if I killed Phil?"

"I don't care. I hope you did. I hope you killed him and Todd and J. B.!"

"He was really your cousin?"

"Yeah."

"Emma, I'm serious." His tone betrays a little vulnerability. "Can I trust you not to talk about this?"

She looks at him steadily. "We all have secrets, Raoul. Some worse than that. If you did kill either of them, you did us all a huge favor, and I'll never tell anyone, and neither will Candy. Or Sophia, I guess."

"Thank you, Emma." He takes her hand.

"Thank you, Raoul." She squeezes his hand with both of hers. "I fucking hated him. He beat the shit out of me all the time. Took my money. I hated him. God, I hope he's dead. If he's not dead, you should kill him for me. I'll help you do it."

"The jeans need a little more time," Sophia announces when she returns, "but here are your t-shirt and underwear."

"Thanks," Raoul tells her.

"Barry Schwartz," she observes. "Do you get them for free?"

"No." He stands and turns around to pull on his briefs.

"What were you guys whispering about?" Sophia asks, jokingly but transparently jealous.

"He's worried I'd talk if he killed Phil."

"Oh, please," Sophia smacks his butt, "Do you know how happy she'd be if you did?" She looks at Emma. "I hope he killed him too. I'd be very happy about that."

"Yeah," Emma agrees.

"You?" Raoul asks Sophia, sitting back down. "Why would you be happy?"

"He's an asshole. Buys tricks all the time — with her money, like I said. And then he wants to do disgusting things, and then he doesn't tip, and he acts like he's done us some huge favor."

"What do Scott and Jerry think of all this?"

"A trick's a trick," Sophia shrugs. "They get half either way. They have bills to pay too. It's a business."

Raoul sighs thoughtfully.

What a fucking mess.

Sophia's mom watches them. Either she doesn't understand, or Sophia has nothing to hide from her.

"Same with Todd and them," Emma says. "I fucking hate them all."

"His brothers?" Raoul asks.

"Yeah. The whole crew. They're all like that."

"How many are there?" Raoul asks them.

"I don't know. You saw them tonight. Maybe you killed all of them."

"God, I hope so," Emma agrees.

"So Phil is in the same crew?" Raoul asks her.