Unrestrained Miguel

by Lorraine

As Miguel Bain pulled up in front of the small gray house, he wondered if this was finally going to be the start of something good in his life. A new secret corner of the world for him to inhabit. To be able to breathe and not be constantly watching his back for danger. There was much unfinished business between himself and Rath. If the chickenshit had just eliminated that mark, like he had been contracted to do...Miguel would be number one now. That bitch, Electra, and her stinking sunglasses. Rath was a pathetic old man. "Protect the innocent," he said out loud with a sneer. Miguel blew out a long sigh of air and rolled his eyes.

He checked his mirrors to see who was around. Quiet street, little gardens, little people in their little houses, living their little happy lives. Deciding to be cautious all the same, he parked his taxi two blocks down the street. As he got out he stood along side the big black vehicle and placing both his hands on the roof, gazed into the back seat. He had killed a lot of people back there.

Sucking in his cheeks, he thought of how much he had wanted to change after being in the hospital. He thought he was different after the months of recovery, had become more patient. He smiled as he remembered looking out his hospital window everyday and seeing Mrs. Strong, from the extended-care facility next door, wheeling her latest paramour behind her make-out tree. He had overheard all about her from the nurses. She had been caught behind the counter of the pharmacy downstairs stuffing her pockets with Viagra pills. Must be tough getting your needs met when you were an octogenarian nymphomaniac. They supposedly gave her sedatives to help calm her urges but she always out foxed them and found a way to grab a willing fellow to ravage in her special place. That was when Miguel decided that he wanted to live. Get old. A Mrs. Strong type pumping up and down on him in his dotage held a lot of appeal.

Miguel remembered how it had been when he was young. Before he had been kidnapped by the government and made into a mercenary. He wondered what had happened to his old drinking buddy Jose. They had spent so many nights wandering the streets and clubs of Madrid together. Spending many intoxicated hours at the feet of the older men in the bakeries, after the clubs closed, drinking coffee and listening to their stories, the guitar music always playing, sometimes happy, sometimes sad, but always with the plaintive quality of those who have no where else to go. Did Jose ever pursue that acting thing he brooded over his coffee so much about? He had been obsessed by it, that urge to perform and be on stage.

Miguel's life had been erased. He had become a ghost at seventeen. What if Miguel had won the girl that night and it had been Jose walking home alone...would he be the killer now? No, not Jose. He would have found a way to escape, he would have probably talked his way out of it. "Hey, no, fellows, you don't want me. You must be kidding." Yes, he would have joked and laughed his way to freedom. He would never have become an arrogant dissident like me. Serving the agenda of the private sector and the politicians to eliminate whoever was in the way of their precious operations. My problem was that I was flattered. I liked the idea of moving around the world, unnoticed. The training, the workouts, the gun assembly/disassembly, the technical break downs and target shooting, oh, I'd been great at it all. To think I had never held a rifle before that or killed anything. Now I'm a fucking pro. Miguel felt empty.

How had he lost that desire to change? Was it because the hospital environment was not reality. When he got out into the world again...started hooking up his computers...doing his cross referencing and finding Electra's cat eye logo still advertising her surveillance business...Rath couldn't still be with her if she was still playing her peeping into window games and lifting data off satellites. He would not be so brazen. Even though they thought he was dead, there could be others looking for them. Miguel didn't care, it was their problem. He was not going to take out his revenge on them, he wanted to get his life back. It was then that he had gotten the taxi license and began his killing spree. He had intended to just make a living, be normal again, but he missed having that power. The bead of sweat that always seeped out along his upper lip just before someone was taken and the adrenaline rush. He didn't do it for the money anymore, he just needed to feel, something...and that had been the only thing that had stirred him up. Till Lydia.

Miguel was going to turn over a new leaf. Lydia was going to make him happy. He had seen it in her eyes that night he dropped her off after they had sex in the taxi. She was the first one he had let live. She was the only one that he hadn't wanted to wipe off the face of the earth. She made him ache for the closeness of her soft flesh.

He took long strides up to the door and knocked once, hard. Lydia opened the door.

"Hello Lydia, I've come to enjoy more of you," smiled Miguel.

"Oh, hmm, yes, I've been hoping you would stop by," Lydia smiled back.

Miguel closed the door behind him and leaning against it, took her in with his eyes. He reached out and caressed her cheek. Lydia closed her eyes and pressed her face into his large, warm hand. She is such a treat. He stepped forward and taking her head in both his hands, slowly rolled it around on her neck. She was completely vulnerable to him. She didn't open her eyes as he bent down to kiss her. She just yielded to whatever he wanted to do. He felt the warmth of her breath as he played lazily with her tongue and sucked gently on her lips. It had been a long time since he had felt someone's complete trust like this. The freedom and space to pursue his desires.

He slid one hand behind her neck now and let his other hand fall down to her buttocks. As he kneaded her soft rounded flesh, she sighed. Miguel let the smell of her drift around him as he too closed his eyes and touched his forehead to the top of her head. Inhaling the scented mix of shampoo and the fried foods she had cooked for breakfast, he didn't want to be distant from his emotions anymore. Miguel ran his fingers through his hair and with a grunt decided enough anticipation, he wanted her naked beneath him. He'd never felt so alive and connected to another human being.

Upstairs in the bedroom Miguel raised his eyebrows at the stuffed animals everywhere, the violet strewn wallpaper. The flouncy, pink drapes made him grimace but the swell between his legs was increasing in volume and the impending rapture was ringing like bells in his ears. Kicking a large, green elephant out of his way, he grabbed Lydia by the wrist, spinning her around, he proceeded to clumsily remove her clothing. As she was revealed, he blinked slowly, envisioning how his molten fluids would flood her and determined that he was going to enjoy every inch of her. He wanted to surround her with his desire. She had opened his heart. He would suspend all his doubts and never again follow the darkness into the bleak, haunted night.

Like a distant waterfall he heard her laugh. As they fell to the bed, her fluffy mound, sparkling with the dew of her anticipation, rubbed up against his curly thicket of pubic hair. Miguel tweaked her nose and raising himself higher onto her, began to nibble her ear. She stretched out her limbs and arched up towards him. Miguel was enflamed by this. She was so willing to give herself to him. He could feel the delight she displayed when he touched her. Grabbing her outstretched arms, he threw them up above her head, bearing down on her wrists as he looked into her eyes. He saw the glimmer of tears there and shifted his weight back. The kinky sex he so enjoyed could be postponed till later. There was plenty of time for everything now. He kissed each of her eyelids, licked down the length of her nose to her lips which he pressed fleetingly. He sucked on her chin next, never breaking eye contact with her.

She was panting, scarcely able to contain her ache for him as he glided his hands down to her breasts. He sat up, straddling her as he gripped and worked her flesh. Manipulating, twiddling the nipples until they became agonizingly sore. Miguel felt her twinges as he took his enjoyment from her body. She was refreshingly entertaining. He relished this power she had given him. His physical sensibilities responded to the sharp cries she uttered in her stupor. She was keen to take more. Miguel throbbed with a gnawing urge. He was perspiring as he flipped himself back and down between her fleshy thighs and like a young boy's first taste of ice-cream began to breakdown the window of her sensual core. With each repeated shuddering, her noises grew louder and more piercing. Miguel, his tongue flying across her labia lips and maiden head was frenzied. Her tiny dark hued blossom, enflamed and blooming filled his mouth. Surrounded by the pungently sweet fragrance stored deep within her folds, he gorged.

With the echoing hum of her orgasms still in his ears, Miguel finally severed his mouth from her center. Again locking his gaze to her eyes, he laid her open and flung his pole into the depths of her slender tunnel. Entering her with powerful, crushing blows he rose and plowed blithely into her. There was no self control now, no caution. He glowed with the mounting throngs of nature's language. His fluids fleeing him like the tail of a soaring purple-headed comet, he collapsed. His face smiling blissfully, devoid of all sorrow and thorny brows. They kissed in tender, slow circles around each other's mouths. Content to be tangled together in their sweaty pool of spent energy.

Lydia, overcome with the rapture she felt for this amazingly different man, limply stroked his hair and murmered gentle sounds between their kisses. She had seen the fierce, anguish in him and wanted so much to ease his pain. Such a wounded, torn man. I hope he stays awhile.

They drifted off to sleep.

Some hours later, there was a sound downstairs.

Miguel was up and bounding down the stairs, naked, within a second. Lydia dazed from sleep, looked at the clock.

"NO! Its Hugh, don't hurt him," she screamed.

Miguel was delighted with the speed with which he had descended the stairs. He felt energized by happiness. Standing in front of Lydia's brother, he stretched his neck and chuckled. Hugh's silly stare and awkward foot shuffling let Miguel know there was nothing to fear from this fellow. He reached out his hand and grabbing Hugh by the shoulders, pulled him into a tight hug and kissing him full on the lips, introduced himself.

"Hello brother, I'm Miguel, your sister has invited me to stay. We are going to get along great. One big happy family".

Sputtering and falling as he looked up the stairs to see his sister struggling into her robe, Hugh's face drained and he fainted.

Life as he had known it would never be the same.