Kinky Sex Fetish: A Manhattan Murder Mystery 4

Aisha
Aisha

Writing fiction is hard! It was Thursday I think, about 6:00. I leave my laptap and briefcase at the office and hustle down to the dive bar so I could flirt with Aisha. I wanted to get in her pants so damned bad I could taste it, but she was having none of it. I was just some loser at the bar to her. She liked me fine, I might have been one of her favorite regulars, but I wasn’t her type. She evidently was my type though. Medium length jet black hair, an hourglass figure, probably 23. While lots of men would find her attractive, there was something about her that just evoked immediate lust in me.

There was this black woman that was a regular at this place that I think was a prostitute. She was one of two black women I’ve met in my life that spoke with a sing-songy little girl’s voice. It’s very annoying, some sort of affectation I never understood. I used to go share a joint with her in her car every once in a while, and we were almost like “wing men” for each other. So the first night when Aisha is bartending, I find myself literally standing up off of the barstool and leaning over the bar like I’m about to lunge for her. The black woman kind of slaps my arm and said something like, “you’re being way too obvious.” I couldn’t help it. Whatever it was about Aisha she brought out like a predator instinct in me. I really did want to grab her by the hair and drag her back to my cave. I don’t know what it was, I doubt she was a sub, I didn’t get those vibes from her. She seemed, hmm, fertile. Like she could birth a whole lot of little hipster babies.

Access Denied
Access Denied

She was a total smart ass and very good at handling the handful of regular alcoholics that would drink themselves silly and have to be put in a cab. She would go through the bartender book and we’d share various odd drinks just to sort of experiment with something new. More than once she wound up a little tipsy herself. That night there was a band playing and it got far more crowded then usual. I had my fill and decided to swing by the office, grab my laptop and briefcase, and take the subway home. It’s about 9:00. I walk back to the office, get in the elevator, and go to our floor. I swipe my badge and instead of the little green light coming on, it stays red.

That’s odd, I thought. I definitely had 24 hour access and had done this numerous times, including with the new ID badge. I try a few times and figure it might just be broken. So I walk around to the other entrance, swipe the badge. Same thing, no access. For whatever reason, that night I couldn’t get in. I had to leave the laptop and briefcase there for the night I guess. No big deal.

A few weeks later crazy bitch and I would sleep together for the first time. I mean actually sleep together. I didn’t lay a hand on her. She was going to take me out to one of her crazy goth clubs. We were out somewhere, and she wanted to go back to her place on Houston Street to change into one of her goth outfits. When she was dressed up in these outfits, she looked like a dominatrix. I don’t remember the first time she told me about her BDSM thing, but I do remember her saying that a lot of people thought she was a dominatrix. I said, no way, you’re totally a sub, I can tell. She looked kind of surprised and smiled.

Don't Let The Outfit Fool You
Don’t Let The Outfit Fool You

So we go back to her place and she says to be real quiet because she’s not supposed to have visitors. She’s renting from some crazy nasty Israeli woman who has all sorts of weird rules. Well, at some point, the woman wakes up and starts screaming at her, telling her to get out and not come back. Basically attempting to illegally evict her in the middle of the night. Crazy bitch of course had the legal right to be there that night, but obviously the confrontation upset her and she wouldn’t feel comfortable. I told her not to worry, we could get a hotel room. I sort of smiled in a cocky way and told her I promise I wouldn’t make a move on her. It is a promise I kept.

We went to her crazy goth club, drank and danced and I enjoyed the freakshow. Late that night we spent the night in a hotel, lying on a bed next to each other. Lying in bed, briefly, our hands touch. We leave them there for a minute. It was our first intimate moment. We would both remember it. It’s the little things. I would come to fall deeply, head over heels in love with crazy bitch. I would come to love her more than I had ever loved a woman before or since. When she finally left me for the last time, it broke my heart.

It’s still broken.

To be continued

Mystery

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