Author's Notes: This story is a sequel to "Captain Ahab'sSalvation", and written from Jarod's POV. It is the second story in a fivepart series. Angst warning. Feedback would be gladly appreciated, flamescan be sent to Pauline Hanson (may she burn in hell). Lyrics belong tothe Teaparty, from their song Psychopomp on their album Transmission.
 

Don Jaun’s Regrets
You want it

This

So satisfying
The sweet decay of ecstasy
And you want it all,

And you want it all.
 

I am sated. I have scored. I am the modern day Don Jaun.

"Funny Jarod. This isn’t what I pictured last time I thought of youbeing naked in a bed." My eyes fly open, and Jess gasps. I am busted, bigtime. Jess makes a mad scramble for the sheet, but I don’t bother, I don’tcare. Miss Parker wouldn’t appreciate false modesty anyway.

"Jarod? Who is she?!" Jess mewls plaintively, and I sit up, smilinggrimly.

"Jess, this is Miss Parker. How are you, Miss Parker?" I am in a wholelot of trouble. She is not happy. I am going to get my ass kicked. Jess’sclaw-like hands clutch at my shoulder, and I have to wonder why I everfound her sweet naivety so appealing.

"I should shoot you for this, you know." Miss Parker informs me. Jessfinally notices the gun dangling from her hand and whimpers. Parker castsher an infinitely irritated glance. A short snort of derision escapes meas I stand, pulling on my clothes. Armani, no less.

"Where are Broots and Sydney?" I ask. Parker watches me lazily. I knowthat look. I smile at her. Perhaps I may get away with this after all.I look back at Jess, cowering naked on the bed, then over at Miss Parkerspeculatively. Mr Happy props at half mast.

"Delaware. I didn’t know you liked blondes." Miss Parker murmurs distastefully.

"You know me, always trying new things. Care to join us and make a Jarod-Sandwich?"The joke is not appreciated. Jess gasps with outrage. Miss Parker glaresfor a moment, casting a disdainful glance at my groin and snapping herteeth together, imitating a bite. I grimace, Mr Happy dies a quick death.

"How did you find me?" I ask her, almost managing to sound casual. Damnshe looks good. Beautiful and so frighteningly sexy. She tosses me a women’smagazine. I already know which page to turn to, I was rather proud of thewhole ordeal. On page ninety-two, my naked chest takes up half of a photo.The other half is taken by some girls naked back, I can’t remember hername now. An ad for perfume, funnily enough.

"You forget Jarod. I’ve had my face pressed against that. I’d know thatchest anywhere. It was easy enough from there." Of course. I am aware ofthe fact that she lay awake for many hours, some while I slept, some whileshe thought I slept. She had a long time to study me.

"I didn’t think you read that crap." She smiles now, a tight littlewry smile.

"I wasn’t. Broots was. I just saw the picture." I nod slowly.

"Jarod? What’s going on?" I had forgotten all about Jess. Miss Parkerand I both turn to regard her. A mistake, I suppose. A minor blip on thesexual radar. Young, almost half my age in fact, blonde and beautiful.Beautiful in a cool, Nordic sort of way. Not at all what I usually go for.Granted, she is intelligent and funny and charming, but right now she looksrather pathetic. She has no strength.

"Get dressed Jess. I’m sorry." She sends shaking glances back and forthbetween the two of us. I know what she sees. Two confidant people, wellgroomed and with an air of money. Mine, of course, is carefully constructed.Miss Parker has been bred into it. Jess slides across the bed nervouslyand reaches for her clothes, tatty jeans and a peasant blouse.

Miss Parker turns away and I follow her through the lounge and intothe kitchen of my expensive townhouse. She gazes around disinterestedly.I’ve wounded her with my dalliance, and she is trying not to show it.

"So where did you find the little whore?" she demands, cold and harsh.I won’t be getting away with anything, it seems. But neither will she.

"I don’t think that’s any of your business. Should I ask you about Hank?"Hank I discovered leaving her house one morning after she’d already leftfor work, the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen smeared acrosshis face. No doubt about it, the man got laid.

He also got arrested for killing a homeless man with a .38. Hank hasnever touched a gun in his life. I am multi-talented. He’ll get off eventually.Not enough evidence against him and I’ll tip off the cops about the realkiller, who has recently been sent to prison for another in the crime.In the meantime, Hank is perfectly aware that he has been framed as a directresult of fucking Miss Parker. He’ll never go near her again.

"You know about that?" Miss High and Mighty has fallen. Her expressionis guilty, even slightly annoyed. She didn’t want me to find out. I shrugmy shoulders.

"Of course." I retrieve a box of coco pops from a cupboard, pullingout two spoons. Silently we stand side by side, staring out the kitchenwindow, shovelling dry breakfast cereal into our mouths.

"Jarod." Miss Parker is looking at me strangely.

"Wha?" I mumble around a mouthful of coco pops.

"Has it ever occurred to you that our relationship is somewhat...unusual?"I smile, tiredly. I can’t resist this one.

"And how would I know what is normal?" What used to be a cruel accusationdoesn’t come off, I end up sounding weary. Perhaps acceptance and understandingis finally mine.

Under consideration, Miss Parker is right. In the seven weeks sinceour first encounter, we have seen each other four times. Two were closecalls, I wasn’t expecting her, and the other two were assignations. Aftermy candid profession of love that morning, I couldn’t deny the urge toreturn. I have no doubt that I will continue to stop in Blue Cove everyfew weeks to visit. She is like a drug.

I lean over to kiss Parker, but she draws back after only a few secondsand a little tongue, an expression of disgust on her face.

"Fuck Jarod." She mutters, and spits in the sink. "Don’t kiss me whenI can taste some other bitch’s perfume on you."

She is right, that was crass. I smile winningly, however. She may beAlpha Female, but I shouldn’t let her know it. I watch her instead, swipingher hand across her mouth in annoyance and digging angrily into the cocopops. Unfortunately, Jess chooses that moment to immerge. She pauses hesitantlyin the doorway, regarding the two of us with nervous eyes. I am truly sorrythat she has to go through this...but I really can’t wait for her to leave.

"You probably have to get to work Jess, it’s getting late, but I’llgive you a call tonight." I hustle her, down the hall, to the door, narrowlyavoiding a kiss under Miss Parker’s watchful gaze, and send her out intothe narrow world with a plastic smile. I turn back to Parker with a grin.She is munching coco pops again, her gun on the bench beside her.

"How was she, may I ask?" she growls. I never thought I’d see the daywhere Parker is jealous, even if she is handling it so coolly. I inclinemy head.

"Not as good as you." I have this memory, one I treasure in fact. Afew weeks ago, Miss Parker hovering over my body in the darkness, whispering(tell me what you want, Jarod, tell me, please Jarod, what do you want),and touching me, moonlight spilling across her delicate body, pressingme down with cool hands, denying my requests to hold her (lie down Jarod,its my turn Jarod, let me do this Jarod).

"Not nearly as good as you, in fact." I continue. Miss Parker watchesme with slitted eyes. Perhaps now is one of those moments I should shutup...I’m never sure when it comes to women.

"Go on." Apparently not. Maybe Parker is kinkier than I thought.

"I mean, she’s beautiful and all, she just didn’t have *it*, you knowwhat I mean?" Miss Parker nods, a sly smile curving across her face. BelatedlyI realise I’ve just paid her a compliment, a good one in fact.

"And what does having..*it* entail?" She asks, and almost absently popsthe first button on her silky, three-quarter sleeve blouse. She has thismost intriguing cleavage thing happening. Is she wearing a push-up bra?

"Jarod?" Reality. Of course.

"It. Oh, ah, yes." The bitch is smiling, she knows she’s got to me.Mr Happy rouses from his slumber.

"*It* means a certain amount of...sexual chemistry."  She moves,just slightly, and another button pops. How did she do that? "Between youand I, for instance. There has always been something..." I’ve officiallylost the power of speech. She’s leant back on the bench with one elbowand I can see right down her top, straight to her black bra with its filmy,see through material. Oh my god. Mr Happy has just jumped to a full salute.

"Jarod? You were saying?" I smile at her, probably one of those reallygoofy, I’m-horny-and-you’re-sexy smiles. I was saying something, but forthe life of me I can’t remember what.

Miss Parker drops her spoon, sidles close to me. I can smell her perfume,something subtle, musky and expensive. Almost smells like sex.

"You love me Jarod." It’s a statement, not a question. I can see hernipples, rosy pink. I nod dumbly.

"You want me Jarod." A hint of accusation in her voice. I nod again.

"But you don’t need me." Quick as a flash, the buttons are done up again.I look up, finally, staring into her cold eyes.

"As you don’t need me." I tell her. There is a spark of something inher eyes, quickly dying. Anguish perhaps.

"A truce, it seems." She acknowledges. She turns away, looks out thewindow, hands fidgeting on the cool Formica.

I am her lover, her nemesis and her beloved, and she to me. But stillI don’t know what makes her tick. I know her vulnerabilities, but havebarely touched upon the surface of her strengths. I love her, and despiseher for that too. My Achilles Heel. The irritating yet arousing thorn inmy side. God how I love her. I hate that I love her.

If it weren’t for Miss Parker, I would have disappeared long ago. Thator killed all the sorry sons of bitches at the Centre. But she, my triumph,my torment, binds me to that hell hole. I am drawn to her like a bee tohoney. I learnt that particular analogy from Jess. She is beautiful, myParker. Too beautiful. Beautiful like I can’t touch. Beautiful like I can’thold. I’m scared I’ll break her if I do, break the small, fragile bodyand watch her spirit fly away. Away from me. I couldn’t stand to lose heranymore than I can stand to be near her.

And she has changed. Since our first, climatic encounter at her cabinshe has changed, grown distant from me. I call her in the middle of thenight and she simply hangs up. I call again and she unplugs the phone.I call her cell and she throws it out the window. I know. I’ve watched.I’ve sat in the dark trees surrounding her house and watched the phonego hurtling out into the world. Wondered why it hurt so much. I’ve livedthis long without her. I can survive tomorrow, every tomorrow, withouther. I think. I hope.

I’m losing her, you see. This small show of jealousy is the most emotionI’ve had from her in weeks. Perhaps that’s why I did it. Me the mouse,poking the sleeping cat. If she hadn’t walked in today she would have foundout later. Perhaps I would have left clues, perhaps she would have stumbledacross Jess at some later point. A reaction, any reaction, is what I needright now. She is slipping away. Evolving into something better, leavingme behind.

I have this vision. My latest nightmare, in fact. Wakes me in a coldsweat. In my vision, my dream, I am an old man. Old beyond my years, linesof fatigue and bitterness marring my face. In this new, frightening realityI still wander the earth, still alone, still unsatisfied. I go out, travelwindy roads, and come across hills, beautiful folds in the earth. And highup on this hill is a house, an estate, picturesque. Being old and paranoid,I peer in the window. Where Miss Parker sits. Not the Miss Parker I knownow, but one aged. Aged gracefully, elegantly, still radiant, surroundedby children and grandchildren, a man.

In this dream I creep closer, nose pressed against the window, lookingin. And she smiles, smiles not for me, but this loving partner. I creepcloser still, fingernails tapping gently against the glass, and she isthe only one that notices. Notices me and recognises me, rises from herchair and I am filled with hope. Slowly, painfully so, she approaches thewindow. Stands at the glass, above me, watching me. And closes the curtains.Shuts me out.

She is leaving me behind. I don’t know how to reach her, how to gether to take me with her. Mayhap my dalliance with Jess was to prove somethingto her. Prove that I too can grow. I too can change. Maybe I am desperatelytrying to prove that I don’t need her as much as I think I do.

We watch each other now, silent. A truce indeed. A truce from bitterness.A truce from deceit. I am tired now.

"I’m going to take a shower." I tell her, and she nods, distant fromme, thoughtful. I love her. And its killing us both.

***

A frozen sun

Would guide you there

As shadows hide

The deep despair

And you want it all,

And you want it all.
 

The water is hot, hotter than it needs to be. Maybe I can scald my fearsaway. In my cool, modern en suite with its big shower and sunken bath,I burn myself to occupy my mind. The door cracks, and Miss Parker sidlesthrough. I watch her from the other side of a cascade of water. She’s likea cat, eyeing off the cream. The Jarod-cream. I feel like I should be hangingfrom a butcher’s rack, the way she’s gazing at me.

"Why do we do this?" she asks. I’m not sure if the question is rhetoricalor not, but I don’t care, the way she’s getting naked. Quick, like glassshattering.

"We meet, we fight, we have sex." She tells me. Pulling open the glassdoor. So fucking beautiful it hurts.

"Sometimes the other way around. We meet, we have sex, we fight." Iwhisper, and she nods, stepping under the water, make-up running down herface like stained tears. Not two inches away from each other, we stop,sharing the blast of the too hot water.

"It occurred to me," she pauses, one finger trailing down my chest,"that we are addicts. Addicted to the rush, so to speak." And she’s right.I get a rush from being near her, a rush from the danger and the secrecy. A rush like jumping out of a plane doesn’t come close to.

I stretch out a hand, cup her soft breast. Her eyes close a little,her back arches.

"God Jarod." She mutters, and squeezes her eyes shut. Her hand movesup to my shoulder, pressing me down. I fall to my knees, sucking in airat the pain. I don’t understand what she wants. I rest a hand on her waist,gazing up at her. I don’t understand, she has to help me, I don’t understand.

When I do nothing for a few moments, she opens her eyes, sees my confusion.She smiles without happiness, just dry amusement.

"I forget sometimes, you know." She whispers. I nod. Help me understand!

"I want you to make me come, Jarod." She steps her legs apart, leansagainst the cool tiles. From this height I have a perfect view of her...oh.I get it.

I lean forward. I’ve never done this before, and I must admit I’m scared.From my time as a sex therapist I get the general idea but...

"Jarod..." Miss Parker whispers, and lightly rests her hand on the backof my head.

"You’ll figure out soon enough what I like." I nod again, and rest mycheek against her thigh. Breathe deep, and lightly caress her thighs withmy hands.

And I do it. Touch her and taste her and do what she whispers for meto do. Never let it be said that Miss Parker doesn’t know exactly whatshe wants. Her fingers curl in my hair as she presses me against her, littlemuttering murmurs of encouragement here and there (yes Jarod God yes Jarodthat’s it Jarod) and I hold her upper thighs with my hands, stroking thesoft skin there. I’ve always had a thing about thighs, perfect Boticellilimbs, slender and tapered and sloping and gentle and the skin there isalways so damn soft, soft curving limbs, splayed for me now as the vocalsupstairs get a little louder. Obviously I’m doing something right, andshe’s close, I can tell, and dammit I’m close too, because she’s so damnhot. Angel.

"Jarod!" she stops me at last, drags my head away from her body andI gasp and sigh as steam whips around us. Wet angel. She wants somethingelse now, I can tell, but once more I’ll wait for her to enlighten me.

"Jarod." She says again, and I nod eagerly.

"Fuck me."

I’m up and on my feet faster than I thought possible, dragging her legsaround my waist and fighting gravity as I jam her between me and the showerwall, feeling the water burn like fire on my back as I fumble (I haven’thad enough experience at these things) and curse (she’s so slick its hardto get a good hold of her) and finally thrust myself inside of her (home)with a little noise.

And then I fuck her. With no skill and only passion, up against thewall in my shower as she moans in the sexiest little delight you’ve everseen. She’s beautiful, wet and abandoned with her head thrown back andshe’s close, I can tell, and I’m close, anybody could tell and the worldsuddenly has more colours but I can’t breathe anyway and I’m. So. Damn.Close!

She’s gone. I can’t breathe. One more. Two. Dear God help me. She bitmy neck.    i’m     gone

****

I'll give you something more

And you'll fade a way,

One last kiss before

You fade away

----
 
 

Feedback please to : kitty_amazon@yahoo.com

Part 2