My heart was pounding so hard against my ribs, I was sure my chest would burst. I heard nothing but the sound of my feet making contact with the pavement as I ran through the streets. My belt was still not fastened, and I held my trousers up with my hands. The image of Andre Lacey's twisted body haunted me. Now I had really messed up.
My shirt was soaked in blood, but I had no time to stop and check how deep the wound was. I didn't know if they were chasing me, but I was a dead man either way. I was sure of it. What on earth had happened? Why did William Lacey want me dead? I was sure it had something to do with my father.
I seemed to me I ran all night, but eventually I collapsed in a back alley upon entering the poorer neighborhood. There I rested behind a some bins. I blacked out. I don't know for how long, but when I woke up it was cold and the pale light on the horizon told me that sunrise was coming. It took some time to get up. My legs were frozen and my chest hurt terribly. I staggered in blindness until the streets became familiar.
I wondered where to go. Would it be safe to go to the hotel? Lacey knew where it was. Did he know my office? Perhaps he did. Who else would have thrown the brick? I stood there a little before I made my decision and walked toward the hotel. There I would at least have Jane to help me.
Newcomb's hotel looked even more sinister in the pale morning light. A thin layer of mist covered the streets and brushed me, leaving my clothes damp and icy. I got to the door and tried the handle, but the hotel was locked. I rang the bell. I rang it again.
I heard the sound of the door being unlocked. It opened slightly and a woman shrieked.
“Jane, I.. Oh! Sorry, where is Jane?” I said to a blonde girl.
“I'm Macy. I had nightshift. Oh my God! What happened! Sir, you're hurt! Jane is inside! This way!”
I followed her inside and fell to the floor. Jane came running down the stairs.
“Mr. Wakefield!” she cried.
Jane and Macy half carried me up the stair and into my room. Jane took my bloody clothes off while Macy got hot water, rags and bandages.
“Don't worry, Ira!” Jane whispered in my ear. “It's not that deep. You need to rest.”
Macy returned, and the two women began cleaning me, perhaps a little more than they needed to. Had I not been so dizzy it might have bothered me. Macy worked with the expertise of a nurse, and Jane tried to get some brandy in me.
“He needs to sleep now,” said Macy.
“I'll watch over him,” Jane replied.
Macy took the blood red water and left the room, and Jane crawled into and held me in until I fell asleep.
In my dreams, I saw Andre Lacey smiling calmly at me until his face twisted and blood came out of his eyes and mouth. I screamed but could not stop staring at him. Andre Lacey. The first man I ever killed. The room shifted, and I was in my family's old apartment. Andre turned into a red puddle on the ground. I tried to run, but Alice and Jane tied me to a table. William Lacey stood in the corner dressed in his lab coat with a whip. At his feet sat the two prostitutes and my mother.
“Gentlemen, if you will observe,” said a voice above me.
The table had changed into an operation table. Around me stood various figures in white coats: Mr. Lacey, Mr. Newcomb, Mr. Wallace, the barber Mr. Peters, Macy and Ellen Johnson in male clothes, the two drunk young men and various guests from the Hibiscus Club. Alice and Jane secured my arms further and removed my shirt. I looked up to see who had spoken and, to my horror, saw my father coming towards the table.
“We will lay the incision in the mid thorax.”
He took out a scalped and began to cut my skin along the same lines as the knife had cut me last night. I screamed as it sank into my flesh, but none of the people seemed to notice.
“As we enter the thoracic cavity we can observe the former trauma afflicted to the ribs and tissue.”
My father suddenly stuck his fingers in and pulled on my ribs. I screamed and cried. An image of Andre Lacey flashed before me once again before I woke up.
The curtains were drawn. Jane sat on the bed beside me completely pale.
“You screamed,” she said.
“Did I?” I replied. “It's nothing.”
“What happened last night?” she asked.
I looked at her intensely. I sighed and and shook my head.
“You don't understand, Jane. This is serious. I have to figure this out.”
“And you don't think I can help you? I am not stupid, you know!”
She pouted and turned her face away from me. I reached out and took her hand. Everything was so confusing. I had only been here for three days and already I was neck deep. I wondered when the next boat for France would leave the docks. Jane. What was it with this woman and her complete trust in me? I didn't understand it at all.
“I am sorry, Jane. Please, I'll tell you.”
She looked at me. I told her almost everything. It is a strange thing; what we find we would rather not speak of. I told her of the prostitutes and of my own actions with them. I saw in her face something stirring, but she remained calm and even smiled. It was a story most men would have left untold. Perhaps I wanted to once again state my non-existing attachment to this girl and give her no hope. Perhaps I wanted to disgust her and drive her away from me. I didn't believe I was worthy of her devotion, nor did I want her affection. Yet, still I spoke nothing of Alice Kite.
“I have to get up,” I said.
“No. You must not! You heard Macy! You have to stay in bed. I'll be here.”
“Miss Dooley! Please!”
“I told you not to...”
“I know. I just have to do this. I am a dead man if I don't. William Lacey will be after me. Andre had a brother too, I believe they said. I shall not suffer from lack of enemies.”
“I don't believe you shall,” said Jane and got up. “I will bring you some food. Please be back quickly. Your bandages must be changed. I have an appointment myself.”
“Trying to make me jealous?”
“How could I? You care nothing for me!”
“Jane... That's not true.”
She walked back towards me.
“Then prove it, Ira. Let me love you.”
“Please, Jane. You know I...”
“Not like that.”
She crawled up on top of me.
I looked up at her and for a moment I saw the face of the blonde prostitute. I shuddered and looked back up again to find that it was only Jane. Her big eyes smiled mischievously at me. I laughed, even though it hurt. She grinned and pulled the covers away.
She took my cock in her left hand and slowly stroked it with no pressure. She alternated between stroking and massaging. Jane looked at me.
“Go to France, Ira. Take me with you.”
“Jane. My dear Jane. You have been so kind to me, do you know that?”
“And it is not appreciated?”
“Of course it is Jane! You saved me.”
“But you will not take me?”
“I can't go back there. You of all people must understand. I cannot leave Mr. Newcomb to his fate, now that I have promised to save him. All I have is my word, Jane.”
“I shall never understand you, but I don't suppose it matters.”
Jane's large eyes shone in the dimmed light of my hotel room. I was getting hard in her hands, even though I did not plan to. I closed my eyes and felt her soft fingers moving up and down my cock. She had strong hands and was so completely in control, I found myself wondering how much practice she had had.
I relaxed my body and gave my entire attention to her movements and my cock's reaction. I thought I could feel the blood pumping in my dick as it grew. In my mind I saw a flash of red. Red hair and a pair of grey eyes. Red hair flowing around her face and into her cleavage. As I came in Jane's hands I gasped and twitched painfully to hinder a sound from escaping my lips. Jane sat there smiling with my cum in her palms. I looked down at myself. I was lucky not to have said it, but still in my mind I called, '
I had gone downstairs. The cut in my chest had proved to be more annoying than painful. I knew I didn't have the time to recover fully. It was no longer only Mr. Newcomb's neck on the line. Jane had gone to take a bath, and I decided to make a phone call. In the entrance hall was a telephone booth. As I dialed the number I glanced at an old newspaper lying there and wondered whether Andre Lacey's murder would be in the papers.
“The Cinder residence. Mr. Harding, the butler speaking. How may I help you?”
“Oh, excuse me, sir! I have to speak to Alice Kite, if I may? I believe she works there?”
“Who is this?” said the butler.
“Mr. Wakefield, sir.”
“A moment please.”
He then seemed to leave the telephone unattended for several minutes, before a familiar voice greeted me.
“Hello, Mr. Wakefield? Is that you?”
“The last time I checked,” she laughed. “Don't mind Mr. Harding. He doesn't like us getting calls. He seems to think we might meet some beau and get in trouble.”
“Well, I am trouble. I told you so last time we met. Have you had time to consider what you saw?”
“Indeed I have. But actually I am surprised you called me. The look on your face when we parted let me to believe you would not keep your promise!”
“It is just that I think it is too dangerous. Miss Kite, things have changed since we last spoke. You do not know how risky this has now become. I would not want you to come to any harm, but nor would I want you to think I had forgotten,” said I.
“I am not silly, Mr. Wakefield. I suppose an exchange.”
“An exchange?” I repeated.
“Yes. You see, I was rather curious, as you can imagine after finding that poor girl, so I asked around a bit. Why don't we meet? Then we can tell each other.”
“You do not understand. It is not safe to be around me.”
“Please Mr. Wakefield. Is there anywhere we can meet then?”
“Meet me at my office. They may know where it is, but at least I know my father kept a gun hidden there.”
“They? Hmm.. No matter. I will see you there in an hour, Mr. Wakefield.”
I gave her the address and complimented her on her fearless attitude. But I myself was afraid. I feared for Jane. What if they came to look for me here? Would they hurt her? It didn't take a genius to ask around at the hotel and learn she was my lover.
Even so, I decided to go. I left almost immediately, so that I would be gone when Jane came out of the shower. As I walked down the street, I wondered what Alice had to say and whether I was ever going to survive it.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/novels/the-wakefield-cases-the-licentious-4.aspx">The Wakefield Cases; The Licentious Life Of Mr. Lacey, Part 5</a>