Orfeo (10 page)

He began to kiss her as well, his resolution melting into heat as his hands grabbed her legs, moving up above her knees, lifting her skirt above her thighs. Both of them knew that things would never be the same again, that everything was different now—that this could be the last time that they would meet—and a frenzy began to manipulate their bodies.

The room was hot and humid and a sheen of perspiration was covering Orfeo’s naked torso as Ardyce slid one leg across his lap. She did not sit down but instead reached between her own parted thighs, fumbling with the belt and buttons of his jeans as he pulled down the top of her dress, exposing the softness of her breasts to his mouth. Her hair, red and gleaming in the candlelight, caught and stuck to his brow as she glared down at her fingers, struggling to reach inside to the length that was extending upwards in his trousers.

When he was free, she groaned in lust, taking the long, black shaft in her palm and squeezing it, feeling how hot and hard it was against her skin. Orfeo’s mouth now was on her breasts, his head moving from one to the other as she pulled him into her with her other hand, making him suckle her. He teased and bit her nipples gently, sucking them deeply between his lips and she felt herself flooding between her legs, her sex so wet and desperate.

There was no finesse to their lovemaking, no elegance or grace, just a wild, animal desperation. His fingers reached between her thighs as she masturbated him, pulling her underwear to one side and sliding along the wet slit before entering her, feeling her pliant warmth as she squeezed him and gasped with desire.

She needed him so urgently that she then pushed aside his hands. She knew she was ready, and there was no time for foreplay. She needed simply to be fucked, to be taken and penetrated by him once more—perhaps for the last time ever. Despite this urgency, her sex resisted him for a second and there was a moment’s pain as the smooth head of his large cock pushed against her labia, but then she opened and forced herself down on him, a fluid, almost violent motion.

Holding her in his lap, his head raised to her mouth, one hand squeezing her bare breasts, the other gripping her buttock as she ground down against him, Orfeo bucked his own hips against her. Her vagina rippled all along him and her breath came in thick, heavy pants. She banged down on him, her feet flexing against his calves as they grappled blindly to find purchase, to allow her to force herself down even harder.

Although his face was twisted up in intense concentration as his seed rose up inside him, his mouth pursed in silent ecstasy, her own orgasm burst through her like a storm and she cried out passionately, her fingers gripping his shoulder and his head as her neck arched backwards, her red lips open and screaming with lust and love and grief.

Neither knew how long they remained there, holding each other in their arms, consoling each other. Time didn’t matter, just as this room did not matter.

Ardyce was the first to move. Lifting her head, savoring the sensation of his erection beginning to retreat inside her, she placed a hand on his face, raising it up so that she could look on him fully. Her eyes were full, like a cup almost overflowing, but this time she did not cry. Instead, she lifted herself from him and, going to the basin in the corner of the room, quickly cleaned herself.

Buttoning himself up, his body covered in the sweat of his lusts, Orfeo watched her. “Come away with me,” he said again at last.

She looked over her shoulder at him and, for a second, her face twisted in absolute bitterness. “I can’t,” she said. “I wish I could, but I can’t. If I go with you, Earl will track us both down. And you can’t stay here. If you do...” Her voice broke before she could complete the sentence and she began to shake, holding onto the basin as she sobbed.

Very softly, Orfeo stood up and lifted one of the charms from the alcove. Stepping behind her so quietly that she did not hear him approach, he gently took her in his arms and, turning her, placed the amulet around her neck. It was a strange thing, all feathers and bones and glittering semi-precious stones, with black bits of iron mixed in.

“My mother gave me this,” he told her. “Wear it, for me. It’ll keep you safe.”

She smiled sadly at this affectation but did not remove it from her neck. Instead, she let her fingers rise up to it as she watched him take the other from the alcove and place it over his own head.

She did not want to move, but staying here would bring disaster to them both. “I must go,” she told him at last.

He turned his back to her. “Come away with me,” he whispered once more, so quietly that she almost did not hear it. Eyes brimming, she turned from him, took her coat and opened the door.

Baptiste stood as she left the room, his eyes searching her face. She shook her head angrily, refusing to cry now. If she broke down at this point she would be unable to leave and her lover would be doomed.

As she moved quickly down the stairs, followed by Baptiste, both of them heard the guitar start once more.

“Hair burning red, as red as a flame,

and eyes so green, as deep as the sea,

your skin so pale I cannot tame—

I burn and I drown when you come to me.

“We lived alone a long, long time -

our hearts were broken a long, long time.

When you kiss me and I feel your heat

then at last our hearts will meet.

“Hair burning red, as red as flame,

and eyes so green, as deep as the sea,

your skin so pale I cannot tame -

I burn and I drown when you leave me.”

Ardyce’s own eyes were both burning and drowning, red with her tears, as she came to the end of the stairs. The prostitute they had met when they entered the building was in the narrow hallway, looking up to the fading sounds of the song that could still be dimly heard.

“It fair breaks your heart when he sings like that, don’t it,” she remarked, her own face sorrowful as she glanced toward Baptiste and Ardyce. “We’re all stuck in the sewer here, but when he sings... sometimes you just forget it all.” She shook her head sadly and watched as Ardyce, unable to answer, ran toward the door and out into the darkness of the city.

Baptiste called out to Ardyce as she ran into the street but she did not respond. For a few moments it felt as though the world was whirling around her and, unable to catch her breath, she staggered toward the sidewalk on the opposite side from the house where Orfeo lived and placed a hand on the wall to support herself. Only the solidity of that stone and plaster beneath her fingers, cold and damp in the night air, seemed real to her. Everything else threatened to fall into chaos.

That, perhaps, was the last time that she would ever see him, ever feel his touch. The murderous look she had glimpsed in Earl’s eyes when he spoke of her lover filled her with the most terrible dread she had ever experienced in her life. Orfeo had to leave and she would never be with him again! His hope that she would come with him was folly: Earl would leave no corner of the earth unexplored if she fled New Orleans with the man she loved: to save his life, she had to let him go.

I burn and I drown when you leave me
. She heard his words, his voice, echoing around her skull and she knew exactly what he meant. Her skin was burning as though consumed by fever, and her tears which fell freely now threatened to drown her.

“Ardyce, are you okay?”

She had not heard Baptiste come up behind her, all other sounds blotted out by Orfeo’s song silent to everyone else but her. She jumped as he placed his hand on her shoulder and, when she turned round to face him, her eyes red and streaming, her face flushed with anguish, he drew back a step. His own expression mingled concern and fear and she wondered how she appeared to him at that moment: she felt like a wild animal, trapped by her own past and desperate now to fight or flee.

The street lights here were intermittent and deep shadows reached between the tall buildings. Far away was the sound of traffic, but there were no cars near them aside from one that she had barely noticed, parked a few dozen feet in front of them. At last she was becoming aware of her surroundings and stared a little less blindly at Baptiste, finally able to see his face as human at last. The night air was becoming ever cooler and, beneath her coat she could feel her skin starting to grow cold.

“I’m okay,” she said at last, though her breath was still coming too quickly and she could not bear to look on the house where Orfeo remained. For a moment he flashed before her mind’s eye vividly, sitting on that rickety chair, his broad chest naked and covered in sweat as she rode up and down on him. She felt as though she had been stabbed and, closing her eyes, let out a groan.

“Come on,” Baptiste said kindly. “Let’s get back to Xanadu.”

She did not resist as he placed an arm comfortingly around her shoulder and began to guide her to the road ahead. She was shivering now, more with despair than a chill, but at the same time she felt that a terrible coldness had entered her bones and she wondered whether she would ever be warm again.

As they approached the car she felt Baptiste’s arm stiffen momentarily and he paused, causing her to stumble. Looking across, she thought for a moment that she caught sight of dark shadows sitting inside the car and frowned, but before she could speak the headlights were switched onto full beam, blinding both her and Baptiste. She looked away, squinting, and felt Baptiste raise his other arm across his face to block out the harsh light.

She heard a car door slam shut, followed quickly by others. Lifting up her head, she was still unable to see clearly but could make out several figures stepping out onto the road and sidewalk. They were dressed in suits, she thought, and perhaps one of them was a woman.

“So, this is where the motherfucker lives.”

Though she could not see him clearly, she recognized Earl’s voice immediately. The stress and drama of what she was experiencing began to overwhelm her: for a second, it seemed that the light from the car headlights narrowed into a tunnel before everything went black and she let out a loud, piercing wail.

Her blackout must have lasted only a couple seconds. Baptiste had grabbed hold of her and she heard shouting but couldn’t make out any words. When at last she looked up, she saw three silhouettes in front of the car, standing only a few feet away.

At last the babble of voices reconciled themselves into coherent sounds.

“Let her go, old man.” It was Earl talking. “We’ll take her from here.”

“Over my dead body,” Baptiste growled, supporting her still in his arms as she struggled to stand upright. It was a stock response—and a stupid thing to say.

“That can be arranged.” Ardyce recognized Snake speaking and, as the other woman moved forward she was able to make out her face, tattooed and vicious. The woman was staring over Ardyce’s head toward Baptiste, and there was a flash of light rippling up the blade that had appeared in her hand.

“No,” Ardyce said weakly. “Let him go. It’s over.”

Snake half turned back toward Earl. Ardyce’s eyes were now able to make out his face, yellowing in the strange light that filtered into the alley. He was staring at her intently and his gloved hands were balled tensely at his side. She always felt odd when she saw those gloves and averted her gaze down toward the ground.

“Are you going to let this bitch talk to us like this? You know where this whore has been -”

Before she could complete her sentence, there was a loud slapping sound and Ardyce’s head snapped up to see Snake staggering back, the hand not holding the knife raised to her cheek. Earl was staring at her furiously. Behind the pair of them she could make out the huge, hulking figure that she assumed was Horse, while Papa stood off to one side, his hat casting deep shadows across his face.

“Enough!” Earl bellowed. “Never—
never
—call her that again.”

Snake mumbled an apology mixed liberally with curses, glaring at Ardyce and Baptiste as she did so. Earl returned his attention to the prize before him.

“You say it’s over, well there’s one way to make sure.” He made a gesture with his head, a terse motion toward the house where Orfeo lived. Immediately Papa and Horse began to move toward the battered door from which Baptiste and Ardyce had emerged only minutes before.

“Stop!” Ardyce screamed. “Earl, please. I told you—it’s finished. He’s going to leave. He’ll be gone, by the morning. I promise!”

The other two men paused. Ardyce could feel their presence at the periphery of her vision but she dared not take her eyes off Earl. For his part, his shadowy face appeared to tighten into a grimace of bitterness and misery.

“It’s finished, you say.” His voice was very low so that she had to strain to hear the words. “But why did it start? Why, why was there even a beginning? How could you choose that nigger, that piece of shit over me?”

Ardyce dropped her eyes, unable to look at him any more. Something was different this time—something was very, very wrong. She had never been truly frightened of Earl before: both of them knew that she held some special power over him, that there was nothing in heaven or earth that would allow him to hurt her. So why was her heart beating like a hammer in her chest, and why was her mouth parched so that she couldn’t speak?