Chapter 39 - The Confrontation (2/2)
Jake flashes his most winsome smile—and it works, as the waiter nods and smiles back. ”Well, if you need help, just call Fastidio's, sir. I'll be happy to—”
”Yes, yes,” Jake snaps impatiently. ”Will call you, if ever we need you. Thank you.”
As Jake starts the car's engine, his mind already savors the fruition of his dream, how he'd unwrap this wonderful gift in his bed, how he'd savor every single moment he's with her. He'd make sure that when he's done with her, she'd be so embarrassed she won't ever mention anything about this. Like the other girls before her.
It's a short drive to the outskirts of the city, where his ”lair” is located in a proto-suburban spread that would have seemed fashionable in the 1960s. The houses have great lawns and lots of space in between, so much that even when Jake struggles in carrying an unconscious woman to his own front door, nobody would notice. Claire's body is so heavenly to the touch, Jake thinks. She feels so soft, so…vulnerable.
Jake struggles with the key to his front door; he couldn't insert it properly. Beside him, on the short steps, Claire is still asleep, her head tilted to a side, her blonde hair half-covering her face.
When at last the door opens, Jake musters his last remaining strength, and fully carries her straight to the bedroom. He throws her on the bed.
”You really are so hot,” Jake says to the sleeping figure. ”Oh, my god, I don't know where to start, Bella. I could drink you all up and still be parched.”
Jake starts unbuttoning his shirt and pants. He leaves nothing on but his undėrwėȧr. He crawls on all fours, panther-like, on the bed, on top of Claire's sleeping figure. Jake notes how the girl's brėȧsts heaves as she breathes; perhaps she's dreaming. ”Dream on, dear Bella,” Jake mutters in the dark. ”Dream on. Me, I'd prefer to be in this kind of reality. With you.”
Jake starts fumbling with Claire's dress. He places a trembling hand on one of her brėȧsts, feeling the flesh underneath the flimsy fabric. ”I'll give this tit a ten!” Jake giggles. ”You're a total babe, Bella Xavier. Now, please give her a round of applause.”
Jake stops, imagining a crowd clapping to the total babe that is lying helplessly before him.
He fumbles with her bra. And just as he gets a glimpse of her nȧkėd brėȧsts, an electronic buzzing sound pierces through the house's silence.
It's the doorbell.
”Who the hell?” Jake quickly rummages through his mind for any possible answer. Did he invite someone tonight? Is this one of his cousins? At this time of the night? Who the hell could this be?
The doorbell buzzes again, and again, quite impatiently.
”Who's that?” Jake yells, his irritation rising by the second. ”I didn't order anything!”
”Jake,” a man's voice is heard from outside. It's a voice that's eerily familiar to him; he's heard it almost every day, in various stages of distress. ”Jake Magno, open this door. Or I'll smash it open.”
”Jesus Henry Christ,” Jake mutters, trying to simultaneously stand up and grab the clothes strewn on the floor. ”Gabriel, is that you?”