Page 6 of Stone Blind

The heat of the morning made Helen McDaniel more restless than she already was, considering her circumstances. As much as she wanted to the take the path less traveled, honestly, she needed some form of a path to follow because currently; she had no idea where this was leading. She had two days to pack and get to Wisconsin to live with a man she didn’t know for three months, give or take, to learn how to be an assassin. Correction. She needed to get to Wisconsin to live with a man for a three-month period of training to learn to become a Technician.

Her cousin Cherry had been a technician assigned to the state of Indiana and had married a Technician assigned to the state of Kentucky. Cherry had a handler, Azrael, who looked like a bad version of an Angel gone rouge and was Helen’s new boss. In some ways, Helen preferred Azrael over the handler for Cherry’s husband, Mr. Slow, who was managed by his cousin, an Archangel named Gabriel. The man was no angel in any sense of the word and reminded Helen of sin on a walking stick, too handsome for his own good with eyes that took in everything, but he had an aura of darkness around him others pretended not to see.

Helen saw it. She saw a great number of things which she never mentioned or spoke about with her cousin or anyone else. Life had trained her to sit silently, observing, understanding, and looking for opportunities to be free and to survive. In this new life, she would begin removing all the previous lessons on surviving as prey. She would be trained to be the predator,always watching. Mentally, she was training herself to be consistently vigilant and acutely aware of all that she saw and heard. As she listened to the sounds outside her modest home, in her heart, she decided there was no need to be a predator of opportunity. She wanted to be an alpha predator, unafraid to take down her prey head on versus waiting in ambush.

Outside her door, the morning brain scramble of conversation inside of her head received an interruption of noise, which sounded like a whinny. A faint smile came to the corner of her lips as she made her way to the front door. Her little niece Naomi had been gifted a pony by a stallion of a man called Mustang, who also happened to be Naomi’s uncle on her father’s side. The smile remained as Helen unfastened the bolts on the door to greet the little angel who’d progressed rather nicely on the care and maintenance of Ms. Sprinkles, the pony with personality.

With her coffee in hand and a smile on her face, Helen opened the main door. Standing on the other side of it was not her niece sitting astride Ms. Sprinkles, but the big stallion himself. For good measure, he whinnied again, followed by a panty- removing smile. At least, those were her first thoughts when she spotted him standing there, to remove her panties and have a short conversation with the man on morning calisthenics. He spoke first, breaking the spell, he knew he’d cast upon her senses.

“Morning, Ms. Helen. I came to see if I could interest you in an early morning ride,” Mustang said, biting his bottom lip.

“You are a wicked man,” she said, looking out the door to see if anyone had spotted him at her front entrance. Helen moved to the left to allow him inside of the double wide manufactured home. “I wasn’t expecting you to be in town again so soon.”

“Mama Ruth’s birthday is next month,” he said with a wicked smile.

“Next month, so you arrived early?” she asked, feeling a little full of herself.

It had been made clear to her that Jarius Neary, known in the Conclave of Technicians as Mustang, only returned to Kentucky twice a year, one was for Thanksgiving or Christmas and the other for his adoptive mother Ruth Neary’s birthday. Having Mustang in town a month early raised red flags and a boatload of questions for her, but this morning she wasn’t in a questioning mood. The modest breakfast she’d prepared of biscuits that were entirely too dense, but edible, she wouldn’t offer to man out of fear of clogging his bunghole.

“Yeah, there’s that, and then there’s you,” he said. “I needed to see you before you left for the first leg of your training. I don’t know. I felt you needed a bit more perspective than you’d get from either Slow or Cherry. I’m all about that perspective.”

“I can see,” she said, looking him up and down. The longer she stared at him, the more his body responded, and after only a minute and thirty seconds, Helen saw the man was on the ready. She pointed to the front door, which he quickly locked.

Mustang stood in the room, looking fresher that sliced watermelon drizzled in lemon juice and sprinkled with coarse sugar granules on a hot day in the summer sun in the South. The jeans he wore hid little and the shirt stretched across his bulging muscles. His eyes showed a hunger that matched the intensity inside her stomach that eased its way down lower.

“Helen, is that a yes?”

“You didn’t hear me say no, Mustang,” she replied, providing a light attempt at her own whinny and a stomping of her foot like a mare preparing to mate.

“My goodness woman, I don’t know what it is about you, but I like it,” he said, wanting to reach for her. However, his brief time with Helen McDaniel had taught him many things about the woman on a journey to a newer version of herself. He’dlearned that he was the only man she’d initiated intimacy with in her life. The other times, based on what she didn’t tell him, were either intercourse by force, coercion, or necessity. Therefore, he wouldn’t start connections with her, she would have to make the move to him – for now.

Helen stepped forward. The soft cotton skirt she wore fell just below her knees. Bare feet padded softly over the linoleum floor. The pink cotton blouse she wore hadn’t been buttoned all the way, leaving the swell of the tops of her breast exposed. He didn’t know why, but it turned him all the way on; as soon as she touched him, Mustang responded.

His mouth found her lips, starting a passionate kiss which fueled the fire raging between them as he carried her to where he assumed her bedroom would be. In a tangle of arms and legs, they fell on the bed. Mustang’s hands roamed over the svelte body, taking his time to remove the skirt Helen wore and to open her blouse. The scars across her breasts, courtesy of a blade from The Collector, he took the time to kiss each keloid of puckered flesh, arriving at the nipple and taking one into his mouth. Helen moaned as she moved against him, wanting more, needing more. Mustang didn’t disappoint, shifting his weight to not smother her frame as he positioned himself, then connected their bodies.

Helen didn’t waste time building up a head of steam. She reached the pinnacle and exploded but continued moving with him. Her nails razed his back. A mouth, hot and full of coffee aromatics, dripping with saliva from panting, pressed fevered kisses on his neck. Her lips reached his ear, nibbling gently, and she felt bold. In his ear, she whispered a command for him that was dirty and raunchy and jettisoned the man into stud mode.

“Damn!” she cried out, holding on tightly, and the stallion bucked hard to bring her to another moment of tension. The hardness of him stroking back and forth in the soft walls madeher shudder and then she bit down on his shoulder, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips, commanding him to finish her and release her from the sweet torture. Mustang didn’t let her down, providing exactly what she needed. “Your turn, my lover, your turn is next.”

She pushed him to his back, climbing on top, and took the stallion for a workout over hills, dales and the perfect little spot in the valley. In his boots, he felt his toes curl as he gripped her hips, giving her everything in himself. Eyes tightly shut, he let go, emptying into her the fears and insecurities he would never share with the lady, but this time for them was important. Sweaty and breathing hard, he clasped Helen to his chest. A large hand rubbed gently at her back.

“That was an amazing way to start a Saturday morning,” she chuckled, snuggling closer to him. “You never said why you are here, Mustang.”

“I came to see you, spend a day or so, answer questions, ease your fears, encourage you on these next steps,” he told her.

“Oh, like my man would do before I went in for a job interview or something,” she said, trying not to sound snarky, but hearing what he was saying, as well as not saying.

“Yes,” he said, rolling her over. He lay next to her looking down at the lady, wondering how such a woman had penetrated his defense systems, wear him down, and make him return to Kentucky to ensure she was prepared for what came next. The training Helen would receive was unprecedented. He’d never heard of a training program for a Technician like she was receiving. Initially, Jesús set her training for a month with each member of the Forbidden Fruits, but Azrael disagreed. Instead, Helen would spend three months with each of the Technicians in the Fruit Bowl extending her training from four months to a year. Most who worked for The Company were already trained assassins or sociopaths whose rage and fixations were put togood use by the employment of compensatory training to target the angst. Helen was neither an assassin nor a sociopath, but she could easily become one.

Mustang spoke softly as he looked down at her, “I have worked with Bad Apple. He’s a tough son of a bitch, and you’re about to live in his world for three months.”

Helen gathered her blouse to cover her breasts. Suddenly, she felt vulnerable to the elements, which created a sense of uncertainty in her thought process. There was no way in hell she would live with a man who would spend more time breaking down her defenses than building her up.

“Is he a predator?”

“Not to you or against you,” Mustang said.

“Am I going to need extra locks on my bedroom door to stay safe?”

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