Part 23 - Gretel: Grinding Bones to Make Bread
Eyes on me. Not his. He barely looked my way. Their eyes — droopy lids suddenly sparking with interest as the odd couple climbs aboard the 4 headed north to the Bronx.
It was the last place I wanted to go.
I caught a glimpse from a young black man, who looked away, pulled his hoodie down. I knew what he saw, what he feared. The tee barely hid anything, plastered to my tits. And to my right sat a literal giant, a man so large he must eat other men just to live. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, engulfing me, fingers almost closing around my throat. But delicate. The way he sat me down on the hard, scarred plastic seat. He could have snapped my neck without a thought, but for a moment, it was if my father was there, easing me into my chair before the recital, trying to calm my nerves with his whispers of encouragement.
No whispers from the Giant. No words. Not once. I’d never heard the creature speak, his lips forever sealed by the Russian. The Giant spoke with action. Not a wince. Not a scowl. Not a grunt or curse or huff. Grace. That was the word I needed. That man was Mount Everest, a snow-capped murderer of adventurous, foolhardy men. But the way he moved. A cat. You never heard him coming before you were laying on the floor, six shattered vertebrae, your eyes riveted on the frail, graying figure in the dark coat, his mix of Russian and English detailing your ultimate demise.
The car shifted, and I felt myself lean into the monster beside me like I was leaning into a wall. No movement. No reaction. His eyes on the window ahead. Our reflection there. I watched us as he watched — I couldn’t tell. His eyes were…unfocused. The black man was staring at my tits again. I took a deep breath, pushing my chest out, pretending not to notice, wondering what he would do. But he only shrank in on himself again. Smart. The Giant would have pulled his head right off and left it in the middle of the car for others to see as we got off at 125th.
It was two blocks in the rain before we reached the Corn Exchange Building, the Giant’s hand around my neck, squeezing his message into my head and shoulders. The bag clutched under my tits for warmth, for safety. It was worth more than me just now, and maybe somehow it could get me out of what was about to happen.
An old woman stood on the steps, looking out into the street as cars pushed by — few at this hour, the darkness and the rain clearing the streets of anyone, and everyone save a slender young brunette and a walking terror. She clutched at her plastic bonnet and scooted to the side as we climbed the steps, her eyes looking elsewhere now. What she didn’t see wouldn’t hurt her. I caught a glimpse of her worrying her lower lip, and then she’d turned to look down 125th toward a car horn in the distance.
I’d seen her before, and I thought just then that I would never see her again. If I’d said a word to her, no one would ever see her again either. I let her go, let the street go behind me, the hiss of tires across the rainy asphalt gone as the double door closed behind us.
The elevator spoke to the age of the building, and I wondered as it rumbled upwards, creaking in protest, if it would fail from the sheer magnitude of the Giant’s mass and plunge us down to death or worse. Ivan’s place was at the top of the high squat building. The entire top floor, a world that I didn’t understand after knowing him for two years. He was a warehouse full of goods, an alley littered with garbage, a polluted creek jammed with the flotsam of the world. But what was behind the black iron door in front of us was something no one could expect.
Jasmine filled my nostrils. Low lights in ornate scones lighting our path. Half-closed doors hinted of an opulence I’d only seen in movies. Rooms I’d glimpsed in times past, but it was so rare that he brought me here. I felt every drop of my rain-soaked shirt hitting the floor, heard each minute splash, the trail of tears I hadn’t yet wept. Cool air wafted over me, and I felt my nipples harden under the tee, gooseflesh crawling over my exposed arms and a sudden shiver down my spine.
He was here somewhere. Toying with me as I stood in the middle of his marble floor clutching his money, my tongue already dripping with lies and bargains. Pleas that would go unheard. There was only one thing that was going to happen now, and I swallowed down my fear when we stopped.
The Tatiana’s waited for us, their lithe bodies spread across the settee as if they were nothing more than a painting, dabbed in oil across some grand canvas that displayed the wealth of the Sun King, Louis the XIV. Silver haired with azure eyes, their naked bodies wrapped in silver chains and bracelets that jingled softly when they stood. Eyes on me. Deep blue pools that seemed blind to anything that Ivan had chosen for them not to see. I didn’t know what they saw in me — not now, not the first day they arrived. Nubile, unspoiled, fresh from a stock that rivaled that of the Romanov’s. If they’d been descendants from Nicholas, I would have not been able to argue otherwise.
A hundred thousand dollars in my hand I would trade for my Walther .22. Even if it wouldn’t kill the Giant, I might get away. Away from what was coming, what I’d known was coming the night I pulled the money from the safe to pay off that cunt. All I needed was for her to stay, to keep feeding them, to harden her precious little heart just a bit. Not to stone. She didn’t need to have a heart of ice. Just…I just needed more time to…to what? I’d had more than enough time to take him down. Was that even what I…
Tatiana reached out, pulling me in, her warm mouth pressing against mine, her tongue pushing in to my mouth. Hands slid over my tits, pulling on my nipples, and I moaned. Warmth, a blazing heat washing over me as the two women leaned in, fingers and mouths and tongues. Hot breath on my neck, my shirt coming up and over my head. They stripped me, kissed and caressed me, one mouth sucking on my nipples, fingers dragging my soaked pants and panties to the floor. And before I knew it, I was naked, burning in the inferno of the Tatiana’s, my hands reaching for them, my mouth seeking out theirs.
And then the bag was gone, and the Tatianas with it. I blinked, saw them nod and turned just as a massive fist crashed across my nose.