Killing Them Softly Read online

  * * *

  Chapter One

  Devin

  I rolled over in bed and watched my wife Taye get up and go in the bathroom. No matter how many times it happened, or how I tried to condition myself to it, the result was always the same: the sex we had was uninspiring. But it hadn’t always been like that.

  In the three years that Taye and I have been married, we’ve gone through a lot. We met on the subway during rush hour. I would see her every morning getting on the train, and I watched and admired her for months, before I got up the courage to speak to her. To me, Taye was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

  One Monday morning, I decided that I would talk to her, so I positioned myself in front of the door, reading the newspaper. When the door opened, the first thing Taye saw was me.

  "Good morning," and a friendly smile, was all I offered up that first day, before I buried my head back in the paper.

  Taye barely acknowledged my presence. She made eye contact, but quickly looked away without saying anything. Men always tried to talk to her on the train. I sat and watched her turn away man after man who tried to push up on her. To her, I was probably just another faceless and nameless man on the train.

  On the second day, I posted up in the same spot, and when the door opened and Taye got on, I said, "Good morning." But this time I added, "How are you today?" And then I went right back to the paper. Once again, Taye didn’t respond, but I could tell that this time she noticed me.

  I stood there and feigned reading the paper, but Taye, as she did every day, had my undivided attention. I stood there, watching her reading her book—a novel called Commit to Violence. I checked out the look on her face as she read. It was like she was totally enthralled in whatever she was reading.

  When Taye got on the train on the third day, I said, "Good morning. How are you?" Like I did the day before, but this time, I had to do a double take. "You look very nice today," I added at the sight of Taye in her black skirted suit.

  "Thank you," Taye said, as she passed and moved to a spot to stand.

  Instead of her usual ponytail, Taye let her hair hang down to her shoulders. We exchanged glances and smiles for the duration of the ride together that morning. And by the end of week, we had introduced ourselves.

  Our relationship developed as a friendship at first; kind of an old-fashioned courtship. It was filled with long walks and picnic lunches in the park. We’d spend hours on the phone at night having long telephone conversations about everything, and nothing in particular. After a few weeks, we began meeting after work for drinks at first, and then dinner. Dinner turned into dinner and a movie. Dinner and a movie turned into dinner, a movie, and dancing.

  "How did I get so lucky?" I asked her one night after we left the club.

  "What do you mean?" Taye said, as we walked back to my car.

  I stopped and turned to her. "How did I get so lucky to find you?"

  "I guess you lived a good life." Taye smiled. "You’re not like any other man I’ve met lately. You’re a gentleman, and you took the time to get to know me. You made me feel like it was important to you; like I was important to you."

  We stood there for a while; you know, having that moment. Looking into each other’s eyes; feelin’ that strong vibe. "No," I said, "that’s not what I wanna ask you."

  Taye took a step closer and smiled. Close enough to kiss. "Well, just what do you wanna ask me?"

  It made me a little nervous to be so close to her. I held it together, but it wasn’t easy. "Taye, you’re an intelligent woman. You’re funny, and you are so beautiful. How come you don’t have a man?" My father told me once, when you meet a pretty woman and she doesn’t have a man, find out why.

  "Because he was a moron who didn’t recognize much less appreciate what a good woman he had," Taye said.

  "So do you think it would be all right if I kissed you?"

  "I don’t think I’d slap you, but we’ll just have to see."

  I took Taye into my arms and kissed her gently. She put her arms around my neck, and I allowed myself to get caught up it the moment.

  That first kiss, the one I’d been thinking about since the first time I saw her, was everything that I imagined it would be. Taye kissed me like it had been a while since she’d kissed a man, and even longer since she’d kissed a man she actually liked. Taye told me later that during the last year of her relationship with the moron, any type of intimacy was more like an obligation than a pleasure shared, when two are in love. It was a task to be performed and nothing more.

  That first kiss between us was tender and filled with passion. I really couldn’t say how long we stood by the car kissing, but it was a long time.

  When we finally separated from each other’s arms, we both just kind of stood there in complete silence, staring at each other until Taye finally said, "Wow."

  "Yeah," was all I could manage before unlocking her door.

  As we drove to Taye’s apartment, no words were spoken. There were none needed. The sexual tension in that car was strong. We held hands and exchanged glances during the ride. Each time I had to stop for a red light, I would lean over and kiss Taye; allow my hands to roam over her body. Not wanting to seem overexcited by what I thought was about to happen, I really had to fight the urge to drive faster.

  Once we got to Taye’s apartment, she invited me in. "Can I get you something to drink?" Taye asked.

  "Whatever you have is fine." And with that she disappeared.

  I sat patiently on the couch until Taye reappear with a bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. Taye filled my glass and handed it to me.

  "Thank you," I said.

  She smiled and poured herself glass. She raised the glass, and we both drained our glasses. Then I reached for her, touched her face and kissed her.

  She picked up the bottle, took me by the hand, and led me into the bedroom. She turned on some light jazz and lit two candles, before sitting down next to me on the bed.

  I looked at her and touched her face. "Taye, you are so beautiful."

  I kissed her again and felt the warmth coming from her hands against my body. Taye pushed me down on the bed. I laid there on my back, enjoying the taste of her tongue darting playfully in and out of my month. The kissing continued, and we explored each other’s bodies with our hands. Taye sat up and began to loosen my tie. "Let me help you with that," I offered.

  "No," she whispered softly and moved my hands. Taye took off my tie, unbuttoned my shirt, and methodically ran her hands over my chest. The feeling made my whole body quiver.

  Taye turned me the fuck on.

  I watched as tongue moved softly across my chest, lingering at m nipples. It sent chills through me.

  Taye stood up and unzipped her dress, allowing it to fall to the floor before returning to the bed.

  She lay next to me, dressed only in her bra and thong, and I enjoyed the warmth of her body against my skin. I ran my hands over every inch of her body. Now it was Taye’s turn to quiver under my touch. I sat up and took off my shirt, without breaking eye contact with Taye.

  I lay next to Taye and kissed her shoulder. I peeled the strap of her bra off of her shoulder, and ran my tongue down her arm. Taye rolled on her side, and I quickly unhooked her bra with one hand, while the other roamed freely across her flesh.

  As Taye uncovered her breasts, I continued to feast on her skin with my tongue and hands, until I reached her feet. Damn. She even had pretty feet.

  I took Taye’s right foot in my hands, and began to massage the sole of her foot. I couldn’t help but notice the glazed-over look in Taye’s eyes, as I carefully and meticulously massaged her foot, before raising it to my lips. With her eyes wide open, and squirming because she’s ju
st a bit ticklish, Taye watched me suck and tongue each of her toes, and massage her calf. After a while, Taye could take no more. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to her. She unbuckled and took off my pants.

  I stood before her naked and hard. Taye reached out and touched it, ran her hand across the length of it. "Thank you," she seemed to be saying at its size. "I hope you know how to use it," she said in a whisper.

  I crawled onto the bed next to Taye, and our lips met again. Only this time, it was like we were on fire as our tongues darted feverishly in and out of each other’s mouths. The shit was fucking intense.

  Taye lay in my arms kissing me passionately, and stroking my erection. I closed my eyes and got lost in the sensation of her hands, and then the sensation of her lips—soft and wet—against my chest. Taye kissed and tongued her way down to my now throbbing hardness.

  When she straddled my face and I inhaled her scent, my lips and tongue were engaged with her lips and clit, slowly tonguing her lips and sucking lightly on her clit. With my eyes closed, relying only on my senses of touch and smell, each seemed heightened. I felt Taye move, and the sensation of my sucking her lips gave way to the feeling of her soft wetness, slowly sliding up and down on my erection.

  Taye moved her body slowly up and down, and then in circles. She reached for the bottle of lotion on the nightstand and poured it across my chest. She began to rub it in with her fingertips. Once she had covered my chest, she leaned forward and kissed me. She moved from side to side, rubbing her nipples across my chest in rhythm with the music.

  I gotta be honest. The sensation I felt when her nipples rubbed against mine was indescribable. I grabbed her ass and ran my hands up and down her back, and across her cheeks. Taye started to move her hips faster; then she sat up and went to work. After a while, she stopped and moved her legs so her feet were on the bed.

  I pushed harder, and I felt Taye’s body begin to shake. Her eyes opened wide. She grabbed my shoulders and dug her nails in. Her mouth opened and she screamed, "You’re gonna make me come!" then collapsed on my chest.

  For the next half-hour or so, I held Taye close to my chest while she caught herself. As we lay in each other’s arms, we talked about how off-the-chain the love we had just made was, and marveled over the anticipation of what was to come between us.

  We were married the following year in a small, but intimate ceremony, and Taye was pregnant six months after that. During the first weeks of her pregnancy, she felt fine. Her appetite was good, and she got enough sleep. It was about the eighth week of her pregnancy when she started having cramps, and her stomach would have spasms.

  When she consulted with her gynecologist, she was told that maybe she should change her diet. Something she may be eating wasn’t agreeing with her. So, that’s what Taye did. She started to eat more fruits and vegetables, and drinking more water. But the cramps didn’t subside. In fact, they got worse. Just after her first trimester, she miscarried.

  "I’m thinking that you’re either stressed out, or just doing too much at work. I would think about taking some time off and relaxing. Working all day may not be good for you right now," the doctor said to her.

  "Does this mean that I can’t have any children?" she asked.

  "Not at all. You’re perfectly healthy, otherwise. Give your body a rest for about twelve weeks, and you and your husband can start on your family again." I took her hand and kissed it while she cried.

  After Taye had gone for a checkup, three months later, and everything looked fine, we tried again. She made it through the first trimester. Taye was feeling great. She had taken a leave of absence from work, and was doing what the doctor ordered— getting lots of rest.

  Six months into her pregnancy, Taye began to feel tightness in her stomach. It was like something was pulling it down, she told me. While we were lying in bed one night, she felt wetness between her legs. "Taye, you’re bleeding!" I yelled.

  Taye panicked, while I called 9-1-1. The ambulance was there in a matter of minutes and transported her to the hospital, but it was too late. The baby was stillborn.

  After we lost the baby, Taye had gone into an extremely depressed state. All my attempts to talk to her about losing the baby, or anything for that matter, were met with complete silence, and the most distant stare. Our doctor told us that Taye was going through postpartum depression.

  "Postpartum depression is a serious illness that generally occurs in the first few months after childbirth. It can also happen after miscarriage and stillbirth. Taye has all the symptoms: sadness, fatigue, insomnia, appetite changes, reduced libido, crying episodes, anxiety, and irritability, as she grapples with this devastating experience."

  "Can you give her something for it?" I asked.

  "I can prescribe an antidepressant for her, which in most cases, effectively relieves symptoms of postpartum depression for most women. However, I strongly recommend that you seek counseling for both you and Taye. A form of counseling called Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy has proved to be as effective as antidepressant medicine for postpartum depression."

  But Taye wasn’t interested in taking any antidepressant or counseling. "I’m not crazy," she said when the doctor suggested it. She did allow him to prescribe some sleeping pills to help with the insomnia.

  After a while, Taye basically stopped speaking to me unless she had to. For months, she was cold, direct, and very much to the point. When she did speak, it was only because it was absolutely unavoidable. And sex . . ., well, nights that were once filled with great sexual experiences shared by two people who were desperately in love with each other, were now a distant memory. I kept trying—begging really. The times Taye did break down and open her legs, was just pity pussy.

  "All right, all ready. Just come on and get it," she’d say.

  No romance, no foreplay, just come on and get it. Then, she’d rush me—and I hated to be rushed. I had always been the type of lover that liked to take my time, savor each and every second of the pleasure. But now, it was hit it and quit.

  "And I’m tired of that shit," I yelled at her one night after another round of unsatisfying sex. After that, Taye engrossed herself into her work, and dismissed any and all intimacy with me.

  Finally, after months of me talking it up, Taye went to see a psychoanalyst so she could begin to work through her issues. The doctor told me that Taye’s condition wasn’t simply postpartum depression. She was suffering with a bipolar disorder. "The cause of bipolar disorder is not entirely known. Genetic, neurochemical, and environmental factors probably interact at many levels to play a role in the onset and progression of bipolar disorder," Dr. Larrieux told me at our first meeting. "The current thinking is that this is a predominantly biological disorder that occurs in a specific part of the brain, and is due to a malfunction of the neurotransmitters."

  "And this happened because she lost a baby?"

  "A biological disorder of this type may lie dormant and be activated spontaneously, or it may be triggered by stressors in life. A life event may trigger a mood episode in a person with a genetic disposition for bipolar disorder. Although no one is quite sure about the exact cause, bipolar disorders tend to be familial; meaning that it runs in families. About half the people with bipolar disorder have a family member with a mood disorder, such as depression. Your wife did mention that she had an aunt that suffered from depression."

  This time, Taye agreed to the treatment option. But she didn’t like the way the medication made her feel, so she stopped taking it. The sessions with Dr. Larrieux proved to be helpful. In time, Taye became a bit more interactive, and generally seemed a lot happier with herself, and our marriage, and she began to come to grips with the death of our second child. However, that generally happier feeling had no positive effect on our sex life.

  Still, I was very happy when Taye came home and told me that Dr. Larrieux suggested she take some time off from work, and that we go away together.

  "Some place romantic, is what she said, but I don
’t know about all that," Taye said to me that day.

  "Why not?" I asked excitedly. I thought it was about time she suggested something constructive. "Considering what we pay her," I started to say, but thought better of it. "I think that’s a great idea. I’ll even do the research for it."

  A day later, I came home with pamphlets of Puerto Rico.

  "Puerto Rico?" Taye asked. "I’ve never been to Puerto Rico."

  "Then let’s go." I got down on my knees and pleaded. "Let’s do something spontaneous. Something we’ll both remember for the rest of our lives together."

  "All right, I guess," she unenthusiastically responded.

  So it was set. Taye and I were going to San Juan, Puerto Rico, to have fun together in the sun.

  I hoped.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  Avonte

  When I walked out of the airport in San Juan, Puerto Rico, I immediately had to dig in my purse for my sunglasses. During the four-hour flight from New York, I had three vodka and orange juices, and the San Juan sun was too much for me. I had come to San Juan to make some decisions about how the rest of my life was going to go. Since I was making life decisions, really heavy stuff, and since the temperature in New York was in the single digits, I decided that I wanted to be some place with sun.

  The cab driver, a real cutie that spoke very little English, took me to the San Juan Marriott Resort and Stellaris Casino. After I checked in, I arranged with the concierge to have my luggage taken to my room, while I went down to the La Isla Grill and Pool Bar, and ordered another drink. "Kettle One and orange juice; and let me see a menu," I told my bartender as soon as he dropped the napkin in front of me. I’d been drinking cheap vodka on the plane, and my stomach was paying the price.

  The bartender placed my drink and a menu in front of me. Then he promised to remember me, and have a drink ready for me next time I did my drinking poolside. I assured him that by the time I left, we would be the best of friends. My plan was to spend a lot of time drinking. Liquor has a way of focusing, or I should say intensifying, whatever it was I was thinking about. I wasn’t planning on getting drunk, but I truly planned on staying fucked up.