Redemption For Two

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Sandy was in the shower when he got home. She’d have checked on their daughter, and then snuck into the bathroom to wash off some guilt while Mickey slept. Cunt. How stupid did she think he was? While she was in there, he scrubbed his arms and face at the hose pipe in back to get Davidson’s blood off, and then changed clothes in the garage where he’d left lounge pants and a tee-shirt.

That part was all planned, along with the trash bags for bloody clothes and the bleach for the bat. He’d burn the clothes in the morning, and put the bat back in the little league lockbox at the ball field on Sunday. When everything else was done he hefted the gun and the wallet thoughtfully, and then hid them behind the hot water heater for later when he would have some time to think about them.

In five minutes, he was out on the little patio off their bedroom drinking from the half bottle of beer he’d left when he went to Linus’s office. By the time Sandy came out in her bathrobe he’d relit a partly smoked cigar and was lying back in the chaise looking at the stars.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she said, keeping the left side of her face where Linus had hit her turned slightly away from him. “The girls and I went for coffee after work. I’d have called, honey. I would have, but I didn’t want to wake you guys up.”

“How are the girls?” Mickey asked. “You want a beer?”

“Everybody’s kinda tired, like me. I think I’d like to go on to bed.”

She raised her hands and let them flap back to her thighs like she did to tell him she hated not having more energy, but couldn’t help it, she just couldn’t. Sandy had beautiful hands, with slender fingers and practical nails. Mickey looked at them, thinking that they’d been wrapped around Linus Davidson’s c**k.

“I’m tired, too,” he said. “Let me brush my teeth and I’ll come snuggle with you.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, and turned away to go back in the house.

“Wear that little black thing,” he said. “I love how you look in it.”

“Oh, honey...” She paused in the doorway and turned to look out into the shadows of their backyard. “I think I’ll just put on my regular nightgown,” she said eventually. “Do you mind?”

“I like that leather g-string, too,” Mickey said, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“Really, I’m exhausted tonight,” she said, and sounded it. “You know how I get when I’m having a bad night.”

Mickey thought she wasn’t having any kind of bad night at all compared to some, and he wasn’t too happy with her just at the moment, anyway. It pissed him off, her f*****g a sly geezer like Linus Davidson while her husband baby sat and washed the dishes at home, and then had the nerve to complain about what kind of nightgown Mickey asked her to put on. He got up and gave her the best smile he could manage on short notice.

“I’ll leave you alone tonight. Just wear it for me, okay?”

She took a breath and let it out so he could hear, telling him she was being a good wife to humor him, and a long-suffering wife, too, putting up with his childish demands just to please him. Mickey was just f*****g with her. Sandy didn’t know that, but he wanted her to hop for him, just once.

“Good girl,” he said.

He went to check on their daughter asleep in her bed and then found some of Davidson’s blood around his fingernails that he’d missed and scrubbed carefully at the bathroom sink. Sandy was standing at the chest of drawers when he got back with a drawer open in front of her.

“This one, or this one?” she asked as if the whole thing was just too tiresome to talk about.

“Not the camisole. Wear the sheer one with the tassels.”

“Oh, honey, I...”

“Humor me,” he said. Like you humored Linus, he thought, but didn’t say.

“Oh, all right,” Sandy said with poor grace.

The g-string was a narrow triangle of thin black leather with plain black elastic cords. The utility light on the pole in the back yard cast plenty enough light into their bedroom for him to see the sheer top with the tassels, which was really a filmy crop top with the tassels hanging from the bottom edge to her waist. It was maybe more substantial than smoke, but not much more. She didn’t make a production of it, just put her spare glasses on the night stand and got into bed without any of the sly come-on looks.

Mickey remembered that he had her good pair tucked away in the garage. “You should quit that job,” Mickey said softly. “It’s too hard on you, working this late.”

“We need the money,” she replied, settling onto her side with her back to him.

The fact that she had to work two jobs because Mickey hadn’t been able to keep even one hung there like a cloud over them. Mickey ignored it and scooted up to spoon against her and she let him wrap his arms around and cup her tidy breasts through the nylon. He could feel the way her g-string cut into the soft skin at her hips and pressed himself against her.

“Feel that? Mick’s prick missed you tonight.”

Sandy held still and said, “I’m really not in the mood.”

“And I promised to leave you alone, didn’t I?” He kissed the warm back of her neck. “Don’t blame me, babe. It’s this pesky hard-on. Damned thing has a mind of its own, you know.”

“Please,” she whispered, meaning please, no.

“You’re the one said I should initiate s*x more.” He pulled her shoulder to roll her onto her back and kissed her. “Didn’t you say that, baby, that I should be more...?”

“I said it,” she replied. “But I was thinking about candles and a little wine. Not two in the morning on a work day.”

“We’ll just do a quickie.”

He kissed her neck and propped up on one elbow. With the other hand, he stroked her thighs and the leather over her pubic hair. Sandy shifted a little under his touch, but kept her legs closed. Mickey kissed her on the mouth again and stroked the one hand up her belly and under the sheer top to her pretty breasts.

“Can’t we do this in the morning?” she asked with her eyes closed.

“Let’s do it again in the morning,” Mickey said.

Of course he knew she didn’t want to. And he knew why. There was a distinctly perverse pleasure in putting the pressure on her, knowing that she had no idea he was wise to what she had been up to. She’d f****d somebody else not half an hour before, and she’d cried about it, and then there’s old Mick with his d**k in his hand, wanting a piece of what she had already put out for somebody else. The last thing he’d wanted from her was s*x, and then without any kind of buildup, it was the only thing he wanted.

“I’m going to do the elastic thing,” he said.

Sandy’s eyes opened. “Please, don’t,” she said, looking worried.

“Just be still.”

The elastic thing could only be done with the leather g-string. If he pulled the leather up and tugged it, the elastic cord would stretch tight from back to front and cut into the soft flesh between her legs. He’d made her c*m that way once, and she had told him that it hurt and to never do it again. Ever.

Her mouth sagged a little when he did it, and then her lips pressed together tightly when he did it harder. She made a soft little hum that was all protest but no denial, and Mickey bent over to suck her n*****s through the sheer nylon. Her hips moved a little, and then her legs shifted as if they were doing it on their own. He kissed her neck and then her mouth again and held still until she opened her eyes.

“I like doing this,” he said, pulling firmly on the g-string.

“It...it...”

“Shush,” he said, whispery voiced.

Sandy closed her eyes again and licked her lips and swallowed. Her mouth opened finally when he kissed her again, and then the heat rose up from her suddenly, as if someone had opened an oven door. Her breath caught, and Mickey put his tongue in her mouth and she moaned.

Linus Davidson had missed out. All the silly bastard had done was prime the pump. Sandy’s reluctance evaporated like smoke on a spring breeze. While the kiss went on, Mickey sawed deliberately up and down with the g-string, knowing that the elastic was cutting hard into her labia and c******s. She was wet. He could smell her. She lifted her knees slowly off the bed and spread her legs in invitation.

“Not yet,” he said. “Come on, San baby, c*m for me.”

“I’ll...try,” she said in a raw whisper.

She let her hips go then and rocked them up and down with the motion of what he was doing to her. Jaw muscles clenched, and she arched her back, barely able to breathe. And then she moaned, a soft rising wail that Mickey was sure Linus had never heard or thought about. Sandy clutched at the sheets with her hands as the orgasm built and then arched all the way up so that she was suspended on heels and shoulders with her backside a foot off the mattress. She bared her teeth, growling with effort as the spasm took her.

Mickey got an arm around her as she came and then rolled on top, pushing her flat onto the mattress again. She drew her legs back, still caught in the orgasmic spasm, and he thrust into her with one motion. She cried out, breaking through the natural reticence that usually kept her near silent during s*x. Mickey hoped it hurt. And he f****d her like he had beaten Linus Davidson, letting all his rage flow through the weapon of choice.

He took her hands in his and pinned them to the pillow on either side of her head to hold her down. Sandy gasped and shook underneath him, not knowing how to react, and not able to make a choice about it. He f****d the living s**t out of her, and she came again while he did it and then, miraculously, again as he spurted into her body. They had c*m together exactly once before in their nearly seven years of marriage.

“Man, oh man,” she said afterwards, clearly impressed. “You sure don’t beat around the bush, if you’ll pardon the pun. I mean, wow. Did you feel that?”

“Maybe you’d better get used to it,” he said, liking how it sounded. He kissed the tip of her nose, and said, “Come on, let’s do it again.”

The second time took forty-five minutes. Mickey checked the clock to be sure. He was tired, and there was a muscle somewhere in the middle of his back on the right side that was sore from swinging the bat into Davidson’s ribs and knees, but he wouldn’t stop. He had one of those aching, rubbery hard-ons that never seem to end, and he kept after Sandy until she was panting from exhaustion and weeping a little from having him inside her. Served her right, Mickey thought, and kept at it.

He put her in every position he could think of and the only respite was when he pulled out to have her suck him while he took a break. She was getting a sort of haunted look before it was over, as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening, or who it was happening with. One thing for sure, though, she had never known him like that. Never even imagined him like that. He was forcing her in a way that she had never known, raping her in fact, only she didn’t know that and for the moment, didn’t seem to care.

Finally, when he came for the second time at last, Mickey had her lying face down with pillows stacked under her hips. He half knelt between her splayed thighs, held her wrists pinned together at the small of her back, and he knew beyond a doubt that he had never f****d anybody harder or wanted to c*m more than at that very moment.

Sandy lay under him limp as a murder victim and he had absolute and utter control over her for the first time in his life. He came grunting like a rutting hog and thinking about another use for the bat he had used on Linus Davidson. He wondered, idly, how she would sleep with that shoved up her ass.

When she got up to go to the bathroom, Mickey went to check on their daughter again. Sandy came back to bed and was very quiet. For a minute there, Mickey thought she might suddenly have been a little afraid of him. He was very gentle with her after that, and she fell asleep in his arms.