Raoul's First Murders Ch. 02

When she seems ready, he lays down on his stomach, his knees on the floor at the foot of her bed, and, continuing to rub her pussy, he begins kissing her thighs.

He begins just above one knee, alternatively kissing and licking, slowly approaching her pussy, right up until her pubic hairs are brushing his cheek, and then he draws back and begins the other leg. Meanwhile his thumb alternates between circling her clit and slowly reaching further and further into her, until finally he's massaging her g-spot with the pad of his thumb while rubbing her clit with the palm of his hand.

Her coos and whines and her body's rhythm of tension and relaxation suggest that she's ready for more.

"Your pussy smells good, Scarlett," he whispers. "I want to taste it."

Before she can manage a protest, he has licked her, his wide tongue sliding along her wet labia and then very softly lingering on her clit.

"Oh, fuck yes," he says as her moan subsides. "God, I love your pussy. It's fucking delicious."

"Better than my mom?" she pleads.

"I'm not going to taste your mom's pussy," he lies.

He takes his time, knowing that she's so nervous. In a way, he's a generous lover, but in another way he's as selfish as any other man, because his intention is to mark her. He knows it'll be a long, long time before she finds another guy who can eat pussy the way he can. He knows that Scarlett, like all the women he fucks, will fuck other men — he has only so much time, only one cock — but he wants them to miss him when they do it, wants them to ache for something that only he did for them.

So he reads Scarlett like he reads other women, trying various things to see what she likes. Does she like to be called naughty? Does she like to have her ass slapped? Does she like to be told what to do? What parts of her body does she crave to have praised? How does she like to be touched? What kind of attention to her clit makes her react most hungrily?

When he realizes that she's going to cum, he slows down, lets it build in her. The longer it takes, the more exquisite that release will be. He rubs his hands all over her body — tits, waist, ass, back. He kisses her thighs to let the desire build up in her pussy, fingers her gently, blows and licks, and growls his approval.

"Fuck yes," he whispers, slowly, repeatedly, giving her permission to relax and enjoy her own pleasure.

Finally she explodes, shaking violently, squealing loudly, pulling his hair.

She pulls him up. Further attention to her clit would be too painful.

"Fuck me, Raoul! Please fuck me!" she begs, no longer shy. "Put it inside me!"

"Hang on, sweetheart. Let me get a condom."

"Oh, god, hurry!"

He rolls it onto his cock, lubes it up, and places himself above her, positioning the head of his cock right at the entrance of her pussy.

"Scarlett, look at me. Good. Keep your eyes open. I'm about to take your virginity."

"Yes! Good. Please hurry," she whines, burying her face in his chest, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Look at me because this is only going to happen once. You're a fucking beautiful girl, and I am so lucky to be the man to make you a woman. So open your eyes. Good. Keep them open. Look at me. Good. This might hurt you a little because I might be a little too big for you, but it'll be over soon, and I promise you'll be making me feel very good. So here we go, sexy. Keep looking at me."

And he slides it very slowly inside of her.

Eyes wide, she puts a hand over her mouth to contain her scream.

"How's that?"

She nods desperately.

"Okay then. I'm going to fuck you now."

She's good enough after all, he thinks, rocking gently, listening to her gasps and moans.

Fucking condoms, though. He can barely even feel her virgin pussy. He should've made her get on the pill first. But there was no time.

He closes his eyes, imagines her mother there, imagines Shirley X's amazing tits bouncing. Scarlett's whines and moans sound just like her mother's. He remembers how Shirley looked up at him that morning, sucking his cock while he seduced Scarlett over the phone.

And soon he's coming into Scarlett. He can feel that he's hurting her a little, but only a little, and she deserves it. She won't know the difference anyway.

When he collapses, he rolls to the side so he won't crush her.

"Scarlett, I need to take a nap now. I'm so exhausted. If I'm not up by eight or so, wake me then. You need to suck my dick and then I need to go."

"Okay," she says. "Am I one of your girlfriends now?"

"Yes, Scarlett. You definitely are."

She nuzzles her face against his chest, and he weeps a little as he falls asleep, wishing all his problems were this easy to solve.

—————

Raoul awakes from another horrible dream with a violent start.

He finds himself in an absurdly pink bedroom, with a strange girl looking at him.

"Are you okay?" she asks him.

He squints at her, needing a moment to remember that she's Scarlett X. Then he remembers everything all at once — the men he might have killed and the consequences he might face, the Khans, the strippers, Scarlett's stupid, stupid games, and the money that Scarlett's poor mother had better have put in his motorcycle.

"Oh Christ," he lays back, relieved. "I had a horrible dream."

"What happened to you?"

"I dreamed — never mind. Just a nightmare."

"No, what happened to your face? And your arm?"

He has to think. What actually happened is hard enough to remember. But what's the story?

"I fell off my bike. What time is it, Scarlett?"

"It's eleven."

"In the morning?"

"No, at night. Did you think you slept all night? You've only been asleep for six hours."

"Christ," he sits up, turns to get out of bed, finds himself completely naked.

He catches Scarlett glimpsing at his cock — she's never seen it flaccid before, he realizes, at least until she sat there watching him sleep, and for a moment, he's tempted to bang her again, but he's got too many other things to do — and too many other women to do as well, women much more worthwhile to him than this spoiled little manipulative brat.

He can already imagine the conversations at Essex.

"Scarlett X?" one of his basketball teammates will say. "Scarlett X?"

"You get all that fine pussy," another will tease, "you. Hannah Vaughan, Emily Redfield. At least leave the mediocre bitches to us."

"Yeah, Big Cock," the first will put in. "Who are we supposed to fuck?"

"I like her," he'll have to lie. "Why don't you ask you Emily?"

"Shit. She won't even look at me."

"He wants her daddy's money," someone will accuse, and Raoul will shrug.

—————

Just around the corner from the X family's house, he pulls off to the side of the road. In his saddlebag he finds two thick envelopes.

He flips through the bills as quickly as he can, checking the denominations. Five bundles of ten bills in each envelope, hundreds all the way through. Ten thousand total, apparently brand new bills.

God bless Mrs. X, he thinks. And God bless her rich, rich, rich, rich, and stupid husband.

—————

Emma and Sophia appear on the porch even before he's off his bike. "Raoul!" cheers Emma, holding her baby's arm to wave at him.

"Big Cock!" coos Sophia, coming down the stairs to greet him with a breasty hug. "We've been missing you!"

"Did you talk to your mom about Little Saigon?"

"She thinks it means we're going to get married. And she won't believe that Julie's not your baby. She's calling me 'Honored Concubine Thi Chinh.'"

"She can think anything she wants as long as she agrees to move out of here."

"She says we have to go wherever 'the Emperor' says to go."

"Good. I'm going to stay here tonight. Figure out the sleeping arrangements. Honored Concubine — what was it?"

"Thi Chinh."

"Honored Concubine Thi Chinh and the Emperor will need a room to themselves."

"What about Honored Concubine Emma?" she asks.

"You can sneak in for a bit when the baby's asleep."

"We only have two beds, and they're both small," Sophia apologizes.

"I can sleep on the floor," Raoul says, "as long as you sleep on top of me."

"We'll make it work," she promises, smiling happily at him.

Inside their house, he calls his family, letting them know he'll be spending another night with Sophia. He can hear cousins and aunts in the background ordering and imploring him not to go back to the bar.

When he hangs up, he turns to Emma. Sophia's mother watches their conversation critically. Clearly she intends to be territorial on her daughter's behalf.

"Seriously, what if I killed Phil?"

"Did you kill him?"

"I don't know, but I kind of think so."

"Good."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Good. Fuck him. I hope he burns in hell."

"Don't say that!" Sophia objects. "That's terrible."

"I know it's terrible. That's why I said it. And I hope it's true."

"I'm going to go to Easy Riders now," Raoul interrupts. "I need to talk to Jerry and Scott and find out what happened. But first I need at least one of you to suck me off. I'm all wound up."

"I'll do it," Emma volunteers.

"We'll do it together," Sophia insists.

"Good girls. Tell your mom to watch my bike and the baby. And tell me how much you really owe the Khans."

—————

Even before he pulls into the parking lot, Raoul can see that at Easy Riders the night of Friday, January 2nd, is very different from the night of Thursday, January 1st.

The lot is full of bikes and cars, and some bikes are parked on the street outside the lot. Two bouncers guard the doors, and small groups of men stand around in front of the club smoking, laughing, and nodding.

Surveying the scene, Raoul decides to park his bike on the other side of the street, under a streetlight.

When he's getting off the bike, he realizes he's forgotten something important. Turning his back to the bar, he squats down as if he were looking at something on his bike. While down there, he transfers three grand from one envelope to the other, and puts it in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, behind the brass knuckles. He folds the other envelope and puts it in his wallet, in the front pocket of his jeans.

Feigning as much confidence and nonchalance as possible, he crosses the street and approaches the bouncers with slow, long strides.

Walk like you've just dunked on Malone Olajuwon, he reminds himself. You're the fucking boss. You own the fucking world and you know it.

When they see him coming, he can tell they know who he is.

"How're you gentlemen doing?" he asks.

"Boss," one of them says, which is apparently how he's to be known here, "We're to take you directly to Jerry. He wants to see you."

"Good," Raoul smiles, "I'm here to see him."

He follows the one who spoke to him, shaking the other bouncer's hand as he passes. They acknowledge each other with a serious, quick nod.

Better to have allies and not need them than to need them and not have any.

Both stages have dancers tonight, and the racks are full of men. Some of them are wearing ties. The noise level is much higher, the music is louder. Few to none of these customers were here last night, and most of them pay no more attention to him than people usually pay to a massive, nearly 7-foot tall man.

There are also several more Khans present than there were last night, recognizable by their black and red vests. They nod at him, a few address him as Boss, and Raoul greets all of them, establishing mutual respect with firm handshakes, steady eye-contact, and his confident smirk.

They seem much more like a motorcycle gang than they did last night.

The bouncer knocks on the door.

"Fuck you want?" Jerry's voice snaps through a tin intercom.

The bouncer pushes a button on it. "Got Boss here."

For a moment there seems to be no response, but then Scott opens the door.

"Boss!" he says, rather less happily than last night. "Get your big black ass in here."

Shaking hands with the bouncer who led him through the bar, and wondering when they began to consider him black, Raoul steps inside.

"Park it," Jerry says, pointing at the sofa.

When Raoul has sat down, he looks back and forth from Jerry to Scott. They're looking steadily at him.

Jerry lights a cigarette, blows the smoke thoughtfully over his shoulder. Then he points it at Raoul.

"Any idea where the girls are?"

"Were they supposed to be here tonight?" Raoul asks. "They didn't tell me that."

"Why would they have said anything about it to you?"

"I spent the morning at, uh, Candy's house. With Raven too. That's where they are. I plan to go back there tonight. I don't know if I did something wrong, but I didn't mean to."

He regrets that last sentence as soon as he's said it. Why act weak unless he's sure he has to?

"Eh," Jerry sneers. "We got bitches tonight. But those girls belong to us."

Raoul nods.

Jerry smokes his cigarette for a while. Raoul looks over at Scott, who is looking at the floor between his feet.

"Funny thing happened this morning after you left," Jerry eventually says, snuffing out the cigarette.

Raoul looks back at him.

"I'm going to speak very carefully and you need to listen very carefully."

Raoul nods.

"The guy in the dresser room. Remember him?"

"Oh, yeah," Raoul affirms. "I've been thinking about him."

"What have you been thinking about?"

Raoul looks away. How to put this? He takes a deep breath.

"Did you expect him to get up and walk away?" Jerry asks.

Without speaking, Raoul just shakes his head. He swallows and blinks. He does not want to cry here.

"I don't think anybody did, but that's exactly what he did. Just got up and walked out. Said he was going to swim to Tijuana. I expect he'll be found washed up on a beach somewhere in Baja California."

Raoul looks at Jerry. He understands, sort of, but he needs a few moments to really understand.

"I guess he just can't bear to go on any longer in this god-forsaken world," Jerry explains.

Eventually Raoul nods.

"He picked a good spot, though," Jerry smiles darkly. "Lot of sharks in those waters. I don't suppose he'll ever be IDed. If he's found."

Raoul finally looks away, unable to bear Jerry's stare.

The gesture reminds him of Scarlett.

Jesus, he thinks. I guess I'm the one getting my cherry popped here.

"It's very important to us that everyone agrees that all these motherfuckers just got up and walked away from this fight," Scott says. "Nothing really bad happened to them here. Some of them, out there on a remote highway somewhere, may have rode their bikes off a road and into a canyon or something, maybe they had too much to drink, but what happened here, this here is a place of business, and those white collar boys out there aren't bringing their money into the kind of place where they don't feel safe."

"It's important to me, too," Raoul says.

"We thought it would be," Jerry resumes. "And we think you'll appreciate the importance of keeping your motherfucking mouth shut."

"Absolutely. Abso-fucking-lutely."

"Do you have any questions?" Scott asks.

Raoul tries to think for a moment, but he can't pull any of his ideas closely enough together to conceive a question. He needs to figure out what it all means. Are they saying all his problems are solved?

"I was on the stage," Jerry says, and a slight smile breaks through. "I jumped up there. And I seen you carve your way through. Never seen anything like it. One punch each. Five guys. One punch each. Like a movie. And four of 'em Compas."

Raoul blinks.

"Five?"

"Four Compas and a junkie," Jerry explains. "And then the guy in the dressing room. Six total."

Raoul nods.

Six total. Six what total? Six guys that he punched? He punched more than six. But as if to clarify:

"By the way, and I don't know why this is on my mind right now, but I should add that there's no statute of limitations on voluntary manslaughter in California, son. You got that? You know what that means?"

And yet again, all Raoul can do is nod. It's hard for him to keep up with all of this, though. Are they threatening him, or just giving him advice?

"If you have any funny ideas about cops," Jerry sighs, snuffing out his cigarette and lighting another, "you should know that you'd be a lot better off with us."

"Got you," Raoul promises. "I have no funny ideas about cops."

"Good, good." Jerry nods. "You seem like a good kid, son. Hate to see you do anything stupid."

"Well, sir," Raoul looks at Jerry, then at Scott and back at Jerry, "if either of you, if there's ever anything I could do for you, it'd be my pleasure."

"Same for us," Scott says.

Raoul nods.

"Well I guess that just about does it for us," Jerry sits back with relief. "Is there anything else?"

Raoul swallows hard, summoning his courage.

"Do you happen to know about Todd and his brothers?"

Jerry's face is blank, but Scott speaks up. "Todd really did walk out of here, son. Eventually."

Raoul nods. That is not good, but hopefully it won't matter. Maybe they'll have had enough of Raoul.

"Anything else, boy?" Jerry's voice is a little harsh. Raoul looks at him. They apparently both know what the next subject of conversation is going to be.

"Can we talk about the girls? Raven and, um, the other one."

He tries to calm himself.

"Candy," Jerry says, not blinking.

"Yeah."

"What about 'em?"

Raoul looks at Jerry, imagines Phil's body being dropped off a bridge somewhere in Mexico.

If he can't help the girls, he can't help the girls. Should be no harm in asking, though. He basically extorted ten grand from Mrs. X for this, after all.

"I'm not sure how to go about this, but I'd like to buy 'em off you."

"Buy 'em?"

"I guess they must owe you money."

"They tell you that?"

"They didn't mean to, but I've got a way of figuring things out."

"I bet you do. And I've got a clothes hanger with a way of teaching bitches to keep their damn mouths shut."

Raoul nods, tries to calibrate showing respect and not being cowardly as he looks in Jerry's eyes.

"How much they owe you?"

"I guess you prolly got a pretty good idea how much they think they owe," Scott says.

"I know better than to trust them."

"Well, we ain't exactly in the practice of selling girls."

Raoul considers that. What can he say to that?

"They ain't worth it, son," Scott advises. "Whatever you want from them, you can get here. Hell of a lot cheaper than settling their account."

"Well, you guys know I respect you, so I'm just going to put this out there. I've got eight grand, cash. Four grand each. I was hoping that'd be enough."

Jerry and Scott look at each other, and Raoul can see he has them. They hesitated for one moment, and he knows that they know he saw it.

"I bet that'd pretty well cover their debt and tide you over a bit until you find a couple more girls."

"We got plenty of girls, son."

"Thing is, I just want to make sure that we're good. I don't want you to feel like I took anything from you. I mean, you guys might be used to this kind of thing, but it feels to me like we've been through a lot together, and so I want to make sure we're good. So I figure, you know, a little cash should make everything feel better."

"Sounds like he thinks he's taking the girls and he just wants to make us feel better about it," Scott tells Jerry.

Jerry just continues to stare unblinkingly at Raoul, ignoring Scott.

"Eight grand," he says.

"Yes, sir. That's right."

For the rest of his life, Raoul will wonder what Jerry was thinking in that moment. Was he calculating whether they could get away with dropping Raoul's body somewhere in Mexico? He might've been wondering how many people would know he'd come to the club that night, how many saw him walk through the bar a few moments ago. He might've been thinking about the kind of press that would descend upon them if a handsome young Hollywood actor disappeared after coming into Easy Riders.