Big Chicago

Big Chicago part 20...by Samayel


“Harrr-yyyy?”

“Yeah, love?”

“It hurrrts! Could you please put some ointment on for me? Hmmm?”

“Sure! Let me grab the tube and the towel and I’ll be right back.”

Oh yeah. It’s rough being me. Hah! Smirk if you want, but I am suffering…sort of. I may be pampered, but try to remember that I’ve been through three days without sex. This might not seem like torment to you, but to me, after all I’ve waited for, it definitely counts as pure torture. Three days!!! No sex!!!

Well…almost. You can’t count being face down in Harry’s lap this morning. I mean…it’s not like there’s anything else I’ve been able to do for the last three days. The only small consolation I have is that, even though my ass is killing me, there’s nothing wrong with my mouth, and a mouthful of Harry’s cock is the only thing that made this morning redeemable!

To top it all off, while I can’t exercise yet, Harry and Therese have conspired to ensure that I eat only healthy foods included on the list Snape sent along. I’m pretty sure Ron’s in on it too, so that rules out discreetly dialing out a pick up order for Malnati’s. I’d kill for just one slice of deep dish pizza! Just one!

Well…okay…I wouldn’t really kill, but I would cheerfully maim! I mean really! Soups and salads are wonderful, and Therese is a fabulous cook, but some things are just good because you know they’re bad for you. Like me! I think half my charm is rooted in the fact that people take a look at me and know there’s always a catch involved when someone looks this good.

I’ve been sitting here for three days. Not even sitting! Laying on my damned stomach or just limping to the bathroom. Last night I rolled over in my sleep, and Harry was fairly good about being woken up because I just started crying. I’m not ashamed of it. It wasn’t because of the pain. Pain I can handle, but I just suck at coping with inconvenience!

I mean…all this luxury, and it’s still a prison! I’m like…like the Prisoner of fucking Zenda, that‘s what! I couldn’t sit to play piano, and I couldn’t stand to paint without aching furiously. My butt feels like it was badly sunburned, and everything I do makes it hurt. The ointment is part anesthetic and part antibiotic, and it just barely takes the discomfort down to a level where I can function and stay sane. That bastard Snape won’t dole out anything more powerful than aspirin, just because I used to be a junkie! Fuck! That was seven years ago! Now I can’t even jerk off, because when I tense a little or get excited, it makes my backside feel like it’s on fire!

I can’t do any of the things that make me happy. No sex. No alcohol. No simply wonderful foods. No painting. No piano. Oh…yeah…and in case I hadn’t said it enough…No Fucking Sex!

I remember the Greek legend of Tantalus, who was punished by being imprisoned eternally just out of reach of sustenance. It’s only bad because I’m so close to all the things I want, but I can’t have them. All I get is two little pills a day to relieve stress, and they work okay, but not enough to make me stop hating this abysmal state of affairs!

Harry comes back in and takes a seat by the edge of the bed, while I just grumpily peel off the pajamas and let him pull the bandage away. He’s so good about all this, and the man has the hands of a saint, not a killer. The only torturous part is that, when he touches me there, in the places that don’t hurt too much, I want him so badly I can barely stand it. I have him all to myself, and all I can do is whimper occasionally and limp my way to the bathroom now and then! Insufferable!

“Easy, love. Relax for me. The worst of this will be over in a few more days. It’ll itch like hell for a while yet, but once this closes you’ll feel a lot better. I promise. It looks really good from here, but you can’t really take my word for it.”

“What? Why not? What’s wrong with your word?”

“I’m very biased…especially from back here. I may have been blinded by the magnificence from where I’m sitting.”

“Mmm. You can keep that up as long as you want! Flatterer. Flattery will get you…well, damn it, it’ll get you one hell of a rain check for as soon as I’m well! I hate this! And I want a pizza! And a cocktail! And some ice cream! Or gelato…oooo God! Gelaaatooo. Jesus, I’m pathetic. How can you stand me?”

For those who aren’t in the know, gelato is what happens when you go to make ice cream, and ignore everything that isn’t delicious. All that’s left is pure goodness. After gelato, ice cream is permanently passé. I hope Snape is happy! This isn’t just raining on my parade…it’s shitting in my sherbet! Grrr!

“I said relax. Here, let’s switch to a massage now that I’ve got the bandage back on. That’ll sort you out for a little while. Try to remember that, once we get you into decent shape, you can have all those things again as long as you don’t overdo it.”

I can feel calloused fingers working knots out of my shoulders. Heavenly. I so don’t deserve this.

“That’s better. You’re gonna be fine. Oh…and Hermione is dropping by tonight. She’s got a few points to discuss about a preliminary plan.”

“Tonight!?” I tensed up all over again, which makes my butt sting even worse. “Oww! Damn it! Tonight? While I’m like this? I don’t want anyone but you to see me this way! I’m a mess! My hair is everywhere, and nowhere good, I’m in pajamas, and I’m miserable! Can’t she come some other time?”

“You’re adorable, we’ll put a sheet over most of you if you like, and it’s hard to get her away from the computers for more than a couple hours at a time. She takes breaks for sleep and food, but she’s usually monitoring several things at the same time. It’s amazing what she can do, but there are limits to her time. She’ll be here in a few hours. I’ll make it up to you later. We can curl up, with you on your good side, and watch a movie…or I could read to you like I did last night.”

Mmm. I think the reading again. I never properly enjoyed ‘White Fang’ until Harry read it aloud. Jack London had a real passion when he wrote that book, and listening to Harry’s voice was soothing in the extreme. Of course, what Harry doesn’t know is that, while he was reading and I was raptly paying attention with eyes wide, I was discreetly imagining him as the wolf, feral and potent, devouring me utterly, sating his hunger and slaking his thirst with me as his sustenance. I just shiver at the thought of him, and think of his teeth on my throat. Can’t help it really. I’m kind of vulnerable to flights of fancy when I haven’t been given a proper and thorough fucking in a while.

“Oooo-kayyy. I owe them all for even contemplating doing this. I know it’s only possible because Blaise is ’connected’…and because of you, so if it means chatting while I look like this, so be it.”

“Attaboy. You’ll be fine in no time. First chance we get, as soon as you feel up to it, we’re going dancing. Someplace incredible. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect!”

I can wait. I’ll have nothing but clean, healthy, pink skin back there soon, and Harry will never look at another man’s mark on my body again. I hate this, and I’m tired and cranky and sore, but I can wait…it will make life’s little pleasures so much sweeter when they come to me again.

Come. Coming. God! I’m stiff in the pajamas and face down on the bed getting massaged. When I wriggle too much…it hurts, but I just want to come!

These days just seem to last forever.

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Hermione’s quite the chipper one today. She just breezes through the place, smelling faintly of patchouli, looking like a college computer nerd turned hippie with attitude. She doesn’t look like a world class hacker working with a covert group that engages in counter-terrorism and espionage, but Harry gives a great massage when he isn’t shooting holes in mobsters, so there you go. At least my second pill kicked in and I’m not quite so anxious about my appearance and sore butt. She pulls an amused but sympathetic face when she sees me, bundled in sheets and laying on my stomach in a pile of pillows.

“Looks like you’re recovering nicely. You can have faith in Snape. He does brilliant work. Good to see you again. You were so quiet when I was over, and I haven’t got all that much time, but it’s nice to get a chance to sit down and really chat with you a bit in person. All we hear in the office is the usual glowing comments from Harry.”

Harry is out fetching some iced tea from the kitchen, being the perfect man he is, and I can’t help but grin when I hear that.

“He glows? He gives glowing commentary about me? Spill, girl! Tell me before he gets back! What does he say about me?” That gets a smile on her face. I love girl-talk. Getting the inside dish on what Harry’s like when I’m not around is sooo petty and callow and beneath me…but I love it anyway.

“Are you kidding? He raves about you when he gets half the chance. Mostly we’re all business. No time for anything else. He was always this quiet, enigmatic mystery, even when he relaxed. No personal life, no attachments, all business. Then he did the job at the federal penitentiary and it was like he changed overnight. He smiles all the time, sometimes even when we’re charting ‘jobs’. He still talks about the paintings you made. I didn’t get to see them last time. I promised I’d take a peek today.”

Mmm. Like food for the soul. I love compliments. He raved about my paintings, did he? We hung the one of him up in the den and study. Well…I watched while he hung it. My butt hurt too much to do anything but stand and watch for a few minutes while he fumbled with wire and hammer and nails, all while balancing on a chair. I love a man who’s nimble. No wonder he’s a good dancer. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hold a frame that size in place while stretching that way. And he does look good when he stretches. Ugh…bad thought. Company here…no need to get ‘excited’ about Harry now…especially since there isn’t a fucking thing I can do about it.

“Even while planning serious ‘business matters’? That’s sooo cute. You wouldn’t believe how sweet he is! Like an angel…but with brilliant abs and great biceps. And his butt’s pretty amazing too!” Hah! Made her blush with that one. “If you want, the paintings are straight down the hall to the end. Last room. Except the one I did of Harry. That’s in the den. He hung it up yesterday.”

Veiled terms are used when discussing the real nature of their work. No last names even get used. Without that nifty little box they use to guarantee against listening devices, all we can do is use the ’business references’ Harry taught me. Not that they think anyone is listening right now, but they just never take chances. The others know what I mean, because they do this kind of thing all the time, but hey, I dated a mafia boy, and I had to keep quiet then too. With Blaise, the word ’meeting’ always meant dropping off drug money, and ’delivery’ or ‘package’ always referred to the drugs themselves. I can deal with it.

“Alright. I’ll check them out when Harry walks me out. In the meantime, I really ought to get down to business here. We agreed to make this thing for you happen on our own time. I’ve been able to squeeze in a little research, and Dean managed to start prepping some equipment that might be appropriate.”

“Understood. Let’s see what you’ve got cooking! I can’t wait to get on with this. Harry wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of my involvement, but he let it pass because I’m absolutely committed to making this quick and easy. So, is there a way I can make this happen personally?”

“Well, there is, and here’s why. I ran his name and pulled up all the material data I could about him, and there wasn’t a lot to work with. A small credit record, because he operates in cash mostly. Probably has most of it in a safe or something. No criminal record, but a few citations from the club. Little violations of city code and such. He paid them all on time, so there were no real hassles there. That said, I tracked his address and financial records, and while I don’t think I could do more than inconvenience him financially, there are certain other options available to us.”

She is a long-winded one, our Hermione is. I feel like I’m in a lecture hall, even though I’m in my bed and pajamas. I wanna get to the point, and Harry just came in with the iced tea and some light snacks. Nothing too exquisite, since he wouldn’t tempt me cruelly by waving food I can’t have under my nose, but Hermione doesn’t seem to mind and nibbles away while continuing her lead up to the plan.

“Mmm. Delicious. Anyway…one of the easiest ways to deal with someone who needs to ‘go away’ for awhile is to see to it that law enforcement has all they need to do the job for you. If there’s nothing legitimate to give them, something can always be manufactured, especially with our resources and the power of the information age at out fingertips.

Your acquaintance has excellent security, and while there are some indications of his having been online in the past, he obviously knows enough to stay disconnected when he isn’t using it, and he’s never done anything criminal while using it. I did manage to cross reference the address and building records of his home against the internet port for his computer, and I’ve pinpointed his computer to the bedroom suite. We could compromise the security of that computer if we can get you in there, undisturbed, long enough to upload a little ’special program’ for me and then make sure the connection is stable for maybe five minutes or so. If we time it right, you’d be able to get out of there without doing anything more dangerous than that.

This is where Dean’s equipment comes in. You’ll need a small device, disguised as a cellphone, which can be plugged into the computer quickly to upload my programming. Then you’ll need to make sure the internet connection is intact and operating for approximately five minutes while I do what I do. Standard to any job, we’ll have a very small GPS locator on you, so we can keep tabs on your location, and we have short range microphones that look like jewelry and don’t register on almost any scanners except the most sophisticated. Since you know him, I doubt they’ll bother, and I doubly doubt that, since Blaise has gone legit, he’d have the kind of equipment needed to detect it.

Further, we’ll supply you with a few methods to deal with any aggressors. We’ll have to stick to things that are easy to hide and won’t do any ’permanent’ harm, as you requested, but at least that will guarantee that you have the means to stall for time while reinforcements come. Just in case. Specifically, there are substances that can make even big men very quiet and peaceful for awhile…if you catch my drift?”

Oh my God! I’m going to be James Bond! Or Jane Bond…I don’t know what I’ll wear yet, but I’m probably going to try something just devastating…as Dee, to keep Blaise’s attention on my ass and not my actions.

Maybe it’s just the tranquilizers talking, but I’m not that afraid of all this. I mean…shit…if I can sit all day in a cell with a mean spirited sociopath who thinks rape is a form of entertainment and still keep my cool, then I can definitely keep an ex-lover of mine occupied for a few minutes while I contrive a way to tinker with his computer! I was much more frightened of the idea of upsetting Harry than I am of this.

“This is…promising. I like it. Is it possible to discuss what my dear Mr. Blaise will endure? What have you got forming in that nimble mind of yours?”

She’s definitely not used to compliments, if a simple one like that can make her uncomfortable. It’s kind of cute. In spite of being my age, and experienced in a lot of ways that other people aren’t, I can tell that her self confidence is a kind of front. She’s the typical brainy bookworm girl, incredibly competent and knows it, but horribly socially awkward. Suddenly, I see why Ron desperately needs my help with this crush of his, even if he thinks he doesn’t. Two obviously mutually interested people, equally socially challenged, and equally unable to make a simple thing like a date happen, clearly need my gentle guidance. Cyrano DeBergerac, eat your heart out.

“Well, let’s just put it this way, Dee. You wanted suffering, and a lengthy stay with the authorities, preferably under circumstances as unpleasant as yours were. I can make arrangements that will place additional evidence where law enforcement can find it, with Blaise’s name and accounts tied to it, using almost nothing but the internet. Illegal pornography. The law is so violently strict about criminal sexual conduct that he won’t get a very fair trial, and that nearly guarantees his conviction. The more disgusting the crime, the more visceral the reaction from judges and juries, and the less they look at little facts that might result in his going free. Angry people make snap decisions.

If we use material that will offend the hell out of them, he’ll be put away without even the support of his own people, because even his crowd has its limits. There are things they tolerate, because they’re about doing business and making money, and there are things they don’t tolerate. This way we can destroy his reputation and connections, guarantee a swift conviction and a stiff sentence, and most of all, I’m given to understand that behind bars, the least liked prisoners are sex offenders. That should make his stay very unpleasant. Is that suitable to you?”

Dear God. It all sounded intriguing a second ago. Dangerous and fun and cool. She isn’t kidding. They’ll make Blaise a living target behind bars, even after I’ve finished with him. Assuming he lives through his first few weeks and makes a place for himself, he’ll be at the bottom of the bottom. Most of the people behind prison bars are there for a reason, but by silent agreement, they all hate one thing more than anything else. Many of them were childhood victims of abuse, and if they find out what kind of porn Blaise was convicted for, he’ll either be a dead man or every man’s bitch before he’s been there a month! I want revenge, but do I really want this?

That’s when Harry speaks up, and I’m forced to listen. Green eyes are boring into me while he speaks calmly, but I know every word is laden with deadly seriousness.

“There’s a limit to how sure we’ll be of his conviction if we do it another way. There still aren’t any guarantees, but this is a fast and easy way to make this happen like you wanted, and we can‘t devote a lot of resources to anything that isn‘t strictly our business. Beyond that, the only certain, absolute way is to bring me into play, and understand this…I’d prefer that to having you alone in there for any length of time. Are you sure you still want to do this?”

I fought for this…for the chance to make this happen. I wanted to do something that would make this easier for them, and prove my worth to them…and…I guess…to me. Now I just feel sick to my stomach, and my mouth is dry in spite of the iced tea. I can’t inconvenience them any more than I already have without sounding like a petulant little waste of time. I’m backed into a corner by my own big mouth, and Blaise’s life is on the line…even more so than my own! What else can I do?

“Yes. Do it. As soon as I’m healed up I’ll be ready when you are. If that’s the best way to make me a part of this, then that’s what we’ll do. Count me in.”

I just destroyed a man’s life. Triumph never felt so much like nausea before. Pity…wouldn’t you know my conscience would act up just when I’m not allowed to use any alcohol to keep it quiet?

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I got a second lecture from Hermione afterwards. It looks like, once I do this, they have to pull me into the organization for my own safety. New identification, a clean up of my records, and some very specific training in their protocols will be required. I’m still smarting from the realization of what I’ve put in motion, and my butt aches dully in spite of the medication on it. At least she relents a little and chats before leaving. Harry was in the gym before Hermione got here, and he’s just taking a quick shower. Hermione only has maybe another half hour or so to stay, and Harry means to be back in time to see her off. He left me time to chat and get to know her, since she’s one of his closer friends, and that suits me just fine.

Of course, this opens the door for me to change the topic to one more of my liking. I really need the distraction right now, since damning another human being to the hell I went through isn’t something I take lightly. We’ve already talked about her college majors and personal interests, which center on computers, language and politics. It’s time to bring up the topic of Ron.

“So…come on! You obviously know all about my love life…what’s going on in yours?” That produced a faint hint of blushing cheek and a hasty look away.

“Well…I’ve been very busy…with work and all. There just isn’t time for that…kind of thing.”

“You’re kidding me! You’re smart, fit and nice. Are you seriously telling me there isn’t anyone you think is worth going on at least one date with?”

“No…I mean yes…I mean…crap. Well, there’s this one guy, but…it’s complicated, you know?”

“Nothing is that complicated! Really…it’s all about this: what do you want…and how bad do you want it? Either this guy is nice enough to be worth taking a little chance…or he’s not. So…who is this mystery stud?”

I wriggle forward on the sheets and stare intensely at her, grinning like the Cheshire cat. No one can resist that playful smirk, especially when I bring my eyes into play. She withers…score one for me! I knew she’d crack like an eggshell under a little social pressure!

“Okay, okay! You know Ron, right?”

I feign wide eyed amazement. I am such the skillful liar!

“NO! Ron? He’s adorable! He’s such a big sweet lug! All tough and manly with his chest puffed out, but such a heart of gold. He’s been so good to me since I came here. You couldn’t pick one much better than him!” She looks amazed and relieved, like she can’t believe her private opinion of him is accurate. How perfect!

“Really? You think so? I mean…he seems really decent…and he is…uh…well…you know…”

“Attractive…hot…sexy…a hunka-hunka burnin’ love? There’s your problem…you can’t even say you find him attractive out loud. We have to get you over that right away! I’ll say this though…it certainly explains that little show between you two at the poker game.” I love the mortified and yet curious look that gets.

“What? What show?! I mean…I looked at him…a few times…but that’s hardly a show!”

“Hah! You were looking at him almost every second that he wasn’t looking at you. He has to be just mad about you to have been staring at you with that big, lost puppy dog look all night.”

That took mortified to a new level. Still, after the initial shock and horror of realizing how obvious they both were in front of others, the curiosity strikes a moment later. Irresistible! I’m good. I wonder if Cupid is looking for a trial hire?

“He…you’re sure he was looking at me? I mean…I thought he might have, but…well…you never know, you know? He looked…interested?”

“I’ll say! How is it that you two haven’t gone out before? What’s stopping you? I’d bet just about anything that you two would make a great couple. And I’d also bet that there’s no way he’d say no to a date with you! Just ask him.”

“I couldn’t! I mean…God…it’s isn’t like I wouldn’t like to…but…I always imagined…Jeez, this is stupid! I always imagined that a guy would ask me out…not the other way around.”

Crap! I’ve got my work cut out for me. If I really were Cupid, I’d be peppering both their asses with Arrows Of Love until they both look like walking pincushions!

“I think you’re selling yourself short, but it is your life. This is the twenty-first century! Girls can ask out boys if they like. Even so…if he asked you out…you would say yes, wouldn’t you?”

Her eyes just narrowed with suspicion. I think I just got busted!

“You! You’re planning to give him a nudge aren’t you? You had us figured out all along! Did he put you up to this? Did he?”

“NO! He all but threatened to bury me in concrete if I brought this up with anyone but him! If Ron had any idea of the conversation we just had, Harry would have to get me three new identities and move me out of the country! I just…you both obviously like each other…I have Harry in my life and I’m happy…it would be nice to see someone else this happy. I was bitten by the love bug, and now I just want to share. What’s so wrong about that?”

That mollified her more than a little. She stops bristling and relaxes, but she still looks irritated about being taken for a fool for this long. Obviously she’s brilliant, but when it comes the world of social interaction, I have her completely outmatched. Come to think of it, I’m about as handy with languages as she is…almost. If I brushed up a bit my Italian, Spanish and French would be fairly respectable. She’s the computer whiz though. I never bothered to learn more than I needed to surf the net for porn when I was sixteen. Programming the blasted things would be very, very out of my league.

“Fine! So he didn’t put you up to this. It’s nice that you want to help…but if he can’t get up the nerve to ask me out himself, then maybe he isn’t really someone I’d want to date. Ever think of that?”

“Okay. Alright. ‘Nuff said. Maybe I’m just horribly out of line and a terrible busybody who can’t help his overwhelming urge to give things a push in the right direction. So sue me. When will I see you again? How will we work out the finer details when I’m healed up and ready to start on this?”

“You’ll have to come into the office for a full briefing and some training sessions. I’d say give us a couple of weeks at the most. By then you’ll be healed up completely, and I recommend following Snape’s orders and getting some exercise. In the office we can discuss some specifics that can’t be mentioned here. Remember to tell Har…just a moment.”

The buzz of her cellphone interrupts us, and I’ve learned to dread cellphones buzzing here. She flips the thing open and answers hurriedly, suddenly as serious as a heart attack.

“Hermione here. Yes. Yes. Understood. Crystal clear. I’ll be there. Goodbye.”

“Trouble in paradise?” I have to ask. I shouldn’t, but this kind of thing affects me too. Any information is better than none.

“You might say that. I have to run. Harry will be leaving too. We need a strategy session at the office immediately. It might take awhile. Possibly days. That’s about all I can say right now. It was nice talking to you…and just so you know…I like seeing Harry happy, and that means I like you. Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you again. A couple weeks at the most.”

I’m almost too crestfallen to respond. It’s one of those calls, and Harry will be leaving. He’s probably on the way here to change now.

“It’s a date. Too bad it isn’t with Ron…but that’s up to you, sweetie. See you then. Don’t worry about me…just make sure my Harry comes home soon, okay?”

“You got it. Peace!”

And she’s gone, shoving the phone into her purse and hustling down the hall. I can hear her saying goodbye to Harry in the hall, and I just dread what’s coming next. Harry comes through the door in a hurry and pops the closet door open to grab a decent suit. I get my goodbye conversation over his shoulder while he fumbles with his clothes.

“You know what’s up. Sorry…about this, I mean. Looks like we need to apply some more ‘pressure’ in a few places. This could take a little while. I hope you know I really wanted to be here…for you.”

“I know.”

I make myself crawl off the bed, careful not to roll on my bad side. I feel enough like crying without accidentally scraping my healing skin across the bed. I want to say goodbye on my feet. I meant for my words to sound comforting. They came out small and vaguely upset anyway. He hurries into his shirt and takes a break to deal with me.

“Damn. I don’t want this. I don’t want you to be here…like this…by yourself. I have to do what I have to do. Ron’s on the way. We only have a few minutes.”

I just slide into arms that will be missed. Soak up the scent of him, clean from the shower he took after exercising. They may have to last me a little while…all those little things about him that tug at my heart and soul. He has to go, and I have to wait, and that’s the way it is. I whisper my answer into his neck.

“It’s okay. This won’t last forever. Someday this will be done. We’ll go away. Somewhere perfect. There won’t be any more goodbyes, and there won’t be any waiting. I know it….and I’m okay. Just be careful. Try to remember that you’re my tomorrow, alright?”

After the last kiss, as my mind clears from the intoxication that comes from staring into those magnificent oceans of green he calls eyes, he gives me the promise I need to hear.

“I can do that. I love you.”

He’s gone a minute later, down to the garage to jump in a car with Ron already waiting in the driver’s seat. I know he’ll do everything in his power to come home safely, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m here…and he isn’t. I have medicine for anxiety, and medicine to make the skin on my butt heal fast and clean. They don’t have a medicine for this. For the empty feeling inside when you know that the person your world depends on is walking into mortal danger.

Jesus, does my ass ever hurt. The tragedy…the real tragedy is that I didn’t even get to have fun making it feel that way.

Harry…come home soon.

TBC!!!