“The water.” I sigh, resigning myself to the fact that she knows I’m a killer, and she’s seen my face. So even though she didn’t know it was me in that alley, she’s seen me murder anyway.
“Come on then.” She says, stooping down, cupping her hands and scooping up as much ash as she can.
I watch with a revered awe as she walks to the edge of the water and dumps the remains into the current. She stays still for a second as they wash away, forever gone into the watery abyss.
Look what she’s doing. Our secret is safe with her. Or is it?
“We’ll see.” I mumble under my breath, bending down and following her lead.
It doesn’t take long until everything we can gather and toss is gone. I take a minute to dig through the mud, looking for any pieces that didn’t pulverize under my shoe. It would be bad if a shard big enough had slipped into the dirt, only to be revealed later.
The damp earth is gooey between my fingers as I search until I’m happy that we’ve gotten it all. It’s cool to the touch and nasty, but it doesn’t elicit the OCD creeps I normally get when wet things touch me. Her watching me, her hands on her hips, her gaze locked on me is sheltering me almost like a security blanket.
“Let’s get out of here.” I finally say, dipping my hands in to the river to wash them clean, and drying them on the front of my already wet and disgusting shirt.
She jogs up next to me, and walks away from the riverbank at my side, keeping up with my long stride. When her fingers lace with mine and she pulls me closer to her side while we trudge over the underbrush and fallen trees, it feels awkward, new, and wrong, but at the same time I wouldn’t want it any other way.
You’re becoming her obsession as well.
The trip back to the car and bike seems to take forever, and the darkness envelopes us like a thicker blanket once we’re under the canopy of the trees again. I can no longer see her face, but I can feel her, the warmth of her hand in mine, and the heat of the aura thar pours off her. In the easy breeze I can smell her too, but it’s not fear anymore, it’s the unmistakable scent of her arousal.
“I’ve never been on a bike before.” She says as we walk past the abandoned vehicle that will now live on this country road for eternity, forever forgotten just like the man who once drove it.
I’m not worried about evidence of him in his car, they’ll never find the body. No body, no murder, no case. Simple.
“It’s easy. You’ll put your foot on this peg, and once I’m seated you’ll swing your leg over and put your other foot on the other peg. Use my shoulders to lift yourself up.”
She stands next to me, watching intently as I pull my once discarded helmet onto my head. It’s still covered in blood and brain matter, with cracks and chips in its formerly smooth surface. I don’t need it for my head, all I need is the visor so I can see where we’re going. Besides if I drop the bike and we die, oh well.
“Up.” I tell her as I settle on my seat, turning the key in the ignition, and flicking the switch to fire up the bike. “Good girl. Arms around me, hold onto me, and follow my movements. When I lean you stay with me. When we stop push yourself back a little so you don’t slam your face on my helmet. Got it?”
“Yes Sir.” She giggles, wrapping her arms around me, her hands snaking down my front to my crotch.
“Up here baby girl. Can’t have me distracted by that.”
With a disappointed groan she lets me put her hands further up on my abdomen, but she quickly changes her tone when her fingers gently play with my abs through the very little protection of my wife beater.
“Mmmm.”
“Easy there girl.” I chuckle, kicking up the kickstand and tapping the shifter with my foot. “Here we go. Hold onto me just like that. Give me directions as we go okay?”
Her hands flatten on my belly, her fingers pressing between the ridges of my six pack, and her front leans against my back, warming me with her body heat, making my insides melt.
The lane is bumpy, but she stays put on her seat, with no shifting or bumping into my back. When we break out onto the main road, she squeezes me tighter, leaning her cheek on my shoulder and we take off.
The trees fly by as I kick us up into second gear, then third, then fourth, racing us away from the scene of our crime like a bat out of hell, just wanting to get back into the city, and where I’m more comfortable. There I can hide in the masses of people, blending in and going unnoticed, expect for that is, the woman clinging to my back.
The engine and exhaust scream loudly through the tunnels heading southeast, echoing off the concrete walls like a banshee, high pitched and eerie. It’s like they’re telling a wordless story of what has just transpired and how I feel about it. Leave it to my bike to scream for me. That’s what she’s best at.
The wider country lanes narrow onto the turnpike, and I open the throttle more, tapping the shifter with the toe of my shoe, careening us through the lanes, passing cars and rigs, splitting through them when the flow of traffic slows. It’s dangerous, and irresponsible with a passenger, but I’ve never cared about that. She’s accepting the risk getting on the back of a death trap with a man she just witnessed kill another.
“Slow down.” I hear her voice in the wind as her arms tighten around my middle, squeezing me tightly.
She sounds afraid, but I can tell by the scent wafting through the air and the hammering of her heart against my back that she’s enjoying it but refuses to let herself admit it. Under that innocent looking face lies a woman who craves the adrenaline and danger that I do. That’s why I’m so attracted to her, she is me, in female form. Even her name is perfect for me. The Phoenix, the bird of fire that arises from the ashes.
Fucking perfect.
Instead of reducing speed, I tap us up into fifth gear and twist the throttle back. The bike lurches forward, already going over a buck ten, taking us up even higher on the digital speedometer. She clings to me, her wails of fear and excitement rushing from her mouth to my ear, then gone on the wind.
