Iceman

North Buckhead

“You know what, love?” he told the beautiful woman who was facedown on the king-size bed beside him, her head down at the foot of the bed, thinking that lots of “real” women in their twenties would love to look like Nicki did.

“What?"

“Hmm,” he told her in reply, rubbing the back of her slick right thigh. Taking hold of the leg high up, his huge hand spanning the slim leg and squeezing, not trying to hurt her but not being particularly gentle either as he squeezed and slid his hand up a little higher, cupping her upper thigh right under the cheek of her buttocks.

“Hmm?” She was working a puzzle and a little preoccupied, and he let the hand pinch her a little as it moved up.

“Mmm.” She had on a string bikini and gold-colored sandals with extremely high heels. A tiny gold leg chain on her right ankle said Daddy, and the gold waist chain said Nicki.

“What?” she said again.

“Pay attention to me, bitch,” he joked with her, but cruelly taking hold of her long hair and pulling it back like a handle.

“Don't, Daddy,” she whispered sexily, “don't hurt your baby. What are the names of three actresses with five-letter first names who've been nominated for Academy ?"

“Susan Saranwrap, Molly Ringworm, and Merry Steamengine,” he offered, without a beat.

“Mary is four letters."

“Yeah,” he grunted as he ripped the top of her bikini off, pulling her up to him. He was naked, propped up in the big bed on a mound of pillows, his hairy, muscular upper torso encircling her as he fed on her hungrily for a few moments.

“Hey,” he said, pushing her away and looking at her in a serious manner, “I just thought of something."

“What?"

“Bonnie."

“Who?"

“You know. Your friend Princess Di of the wrinkled toes. Her buddy Bonnie she was always blabbering about."

“So?"

“So she's a kind of loose end, ya know?"

“Huh uh. She's covered. Remember—I got that postcard. It already went out to the nigger girl I told you about in California,"—she shook her head—"so, like no problemo. In a couple of weeks she gets the first card from sunny Cal. Remember?"

“I know. That was soooooooo clever. I do like it. In fact, I love it.” He kissed her. “But she's a loose end. I think we should handle her."

“What do you mean ‘handle'?"

“Okay. If I was legitimately Funny Toes’ heartthrob, I'd be sick about Princess Di being gone. And ole Bonnie is going to think that her idiot bitch friend ran off with me to California. Who the fuck knows if she might get crazy and put the cops on me? True, she probably doesn't know much. But it seems to me the smartest thing we could do is eliminate the possibility of a problem. Go ahead and send the card blah-blah, and so on and so forth, and then I get in touch with Bonnie. I wonder whatever happened to Diane. We get together and I dispose of this little loose end."

“No fucking way. No, Daddy. That's a serious mistake. You should never have any contact with Bonnie at all. She doesn't know you. You're clear of it."

“Yeah. But dig it, YOU could get her for us."

“No, don't make me do it. I don't like it. It's risky."

“There, there, now,” he said, a hand closing on one of her breasts, “we'll work it out all neat. Don't worry your sweet tits about it.” He pulled her to him.