Chapter Two

"I don't pay you to tell me what isn't possible. Either you get the deal closed or you're done." Shane met his father behind his large brown wooden desk, his hand firm on the arm of his larger chair and the other squeezing the cells out of his phone. He swore loudly and flung his phone on the desk. It landed on the right side of a photograph of him and Felicia. 

"Father." Shane moved to take a seat opposite his old man who could still spit fire like a dragon. 

Mark glanced at his son. Indeed he was proud of the clay he had moulded, into a powerful presence. He offered a glass of red wine to his exact replica who accepted then he began to pace. "That was about Omega, that deal is the one move that is capable to making the company a fucking bedrock for eternity. Someone is giving out information we don't have." He stopped and stared at his son, "You remember what I told you about information?"

Shane nodded as he answered, "it is the padlock on power."

Mark smiled, pride boosted his fragile heart. "And what is the key to that padlock on power?" 

Shane threw a deadly look at his father, the lecture was an irritation, "only power itself." 

Mark didn't see the look, he took a long go at his glass of wine then sat, "have you been able to get Tom to talk?"

"Soon."

"What's taking you so long?" Mark sneered.

"Great information takes greater time." Done with the moment, "why did you ask for me father?"

"I need you in Italy, I have a business deal happening this weekend. I need you to oversee it, and no, you can't send any other person. It's very private, I need private hands on it. You can only take Luke."

"No."

"What the hell do you mean no! What in the fuck makes you think that I was asking." Shane felt his father's rage, his green eyes seemed to flame.

Shane dropped the wine he never drank. "One of the reasons I came was to tell you I'm going home soon."

"Home?" Mark was confused. The only home his son had were the clubs his son thought he didn't know he owned.

Shane shifted in his seat, crossed his legs and nodded. "I'm going back to Nigeria. It's not permanent."

Mark raised a brow, he accessed the solemn face of his son. He looked for humour and found none. "You call Nigeria your home, that shit hole?"

Gradually like a boisterous laughter about to end rather than begin, Shane watched his father vibrate and shake his head in an insane mockery of laughter. He drank more wine as he held his chest and laughed harder, almost choking in his cup. Shane wished he would drop and stop laughing, forever. His home wasn't a shit hole, he knew that.

"I'm here to let you know. If Italy can't wait, send someone else." He stood up, buttoned his suit and began to leave.

Like his windpipe was cut off, Mark's laughter ceased. "I never asked your mother for you, you know." He knew he struck a foreign never, with delight he lit a long, fat, stick of cigar.

Shane stopped in the middle of the huge, egoistic study. The crawling smell of the burning cigar tempted his nostrils which flared. Somehow he had always known he was never meant to be here but to hear it after all these years seemed jolting. He turned and mounted a slaughtering look on a man who was unfortunately his father.

"Don't. Don't say anything about her."

"A man who wants it all, who wants real power has to deal with his mommy issues, Shane. She brought you under my roof without my consent. She dumped your local bones on my laps to cater for and I did. I made you and now you think you can say no to me. You think you can decide when to walk out. You want to go home," he chuckled devilishly as his anger took flight, "You have no home, you idiot. I'm your only home. You wouldn't know the sight of Nigeria if it slapped you across your face." He took a long draw from his cigar, he soothed in its plume. "You want home? I'll give you home. Those two people you call siblings aren't mine. Your whore of a mother thought she could pin them on me. I have been generous to them because of you but you, ungrateful swine think I never do enough for them. Your whore of a…"

"Don't." Shane growled in agony and rage. He clenched his jaw and took a murderous step forward.

Mark was too deep to notice the animalistic nature brewing in his son's eyes, "...mother had the three of you from different men. That's your home. A bunch of bastards and a slut."

It was fast. It was deadly. Mark didn't see the predator launch. Shane threw a punch at his grandfather's smug, he yanked the bright cigar from his father's lips and dug the foot of it into his old man's infirm lap. The flamed tobacco didn't soothe Mark anymore, it almost killed him. His scream travelled through the mansion.

Shane grabbed his neck and pushed the cigar deeper, "My family stays out of your vile mouth Mark, unless you'd prefer being buried with no legs than enjoying more cigars." His voice was laced to torment and execute.

Footsteps quickened towards the study. Mark screamed and whimpered. Shane let him go and placed the smeched tobacco on the ashtray on his father's desk. "I'll get back to you about Italy. Good day Mark." 

Felica stormed into the study with two guards on her tail. She got behind the desk and wailed at the scorching hole on her husband's trouser and the abuse on his broken flesh. "You Monster! What did you do?!"

Her grieving question fell on absence. Shane was gone. The quiet flame of the burnt out cigar on the ashtray, the weapon, was the only sight of his rage. 

"Out, both of you!" Felicia screamed at the guards. As they scrambled away, she knelt and held her sixty year old spouse, his face was numb and cold, he looked almost ninety. "He will pay for this, I promise you." She blustered and kissed his forehead.

"No. He is my only child." Mark's voice came off weak and defeated.

Felica rolled her eyes, what could a barren woman say to that? Even though she had removed her womb on purpose to avoid children because they only made you fat and distracted. "You're his father, he has no right."

"I said hurtful words."

"And so what? He is ours, we have a right to say any shit we want to say to him." She was on her feet now, she went to the window to watch him leave. She rubbed her neck and because watching him move like a king made her desire flare. She sighed and thought of how she could punish him. 

"He has grown very large wings, they need to be cut off." She almost didn't hear him interrupt her fantasy. She looked at him with pity and thought she should probably take him to the hospital. She texted his driver to bring the car around and for his guards to come help him up.

"No honey, he would learn to use his legs and he'd still find the power to race with them. When you take down a big bird," she strolled to his side and whispered in his ear, her red lipstick brushing his lobe, "you chop off its head."

On his way to his penthouse, Shane steamed. He wasn't only mad at his father, he was furious at himself. He let himself be steered into a corner and instead of walking the other way, he had punched the wall instead. There would be a dent on the old wall but his knuckles would be bruised. 

"Are you alright sir?" Luke glanced repeatedly at his boss who he most times considered a friend.

Shane gazed at the light of New York City, "No Luke, I'm not. I shouldn't have hurt him"

"Anger isn't one to leave us with choices, it's our actions afterwards that matters the most."

"Hmmm." Shane played with those words in his head. 

"Do you want me to cancel Angela and her girls?"

"No. Have you heard anything about Tom?" 

"Yes. He says there's a witch who helps your competitor, she tells him the best move to make in order to win good deals." He said the words cautiously, to avoid sounding deranged.

Shane frowned then chucked, "a man with death dangling by his nose will not lie. What do you think, Luke?"

Luke thought for a moment then responded, "He knows better than to make up stories. He can't be lying. I don't believe in supernatural shit but I believe in a man with a gun to his brains."

"Hmmm." Shane nodded and shut his eyes, his day has been terrible. He could feel his closest companion, the trifling headache come closer. He knew he would become like the city that night and never sleep.

When he arrived at his place, he took a quick shower and wore a white tee - shirt over blue jeans. He did some work while he waited for his guests. He made necessary arrangements for his journey to Africa. His father's words were hidden in a steel box in his head, he could hear them riot but he ignored them once again.

Angela arrived in fashion, her see - through gown glittered, anyone from a mile could see her lean, curvy body and her lovely breasts. Her black hair, full and long, was let loose to groom her arms. It was her chocolate skin she took great pride in, it was spotless and sexy. She was exquisite for a forty - two year old woman. She loved her job. She always said sex was created for her and it was hers to worship. She came with two younger ladies but their allure and beauty could not compare to that of Angela. She called out for him and pounced on him when he walked into the living room. She hugged him, doing well to run her pierced nipples on his soft cotton.

"Oh I missed you Shane. I brought company." She smiled delightfully and gestured towards the fascinated ladies. They had heard so much about Shane Smith, today they wanted to taste him and let him fuck their brains out even if it was the last thing they ever do. He was taller, sexier and more unreal than they had imagined and they were his for the night.

Shane showed a gesture of approval and allowed Angela to lead them to his chamber which he graced for pleasure and pain. He watched the ladies whip their hips into corners till he was only left with the echo of their giggles. He seemed frozen, he wanted to let loose but the events of the day had caged his wants. He couldn't dismiss his guests but he would find a way to give them the pleasure he knew they had heard he could give.

He followed their trail and when he entered the dark room, glorified with red neon lights and objects of sin, he almost changed his mind. There on the massive bed with a white sheet, his guest seemed perfectly in place like a Nude art.

He decided to begin with his old acquaintance. She wanted it quick. He wanted it quicker but he only obliged to his needs after he fulfilled hers. He opened a drawer, shuffled past a few bondage gear and selected a thick, long rope of elastic leather and brought her to her knees by the edge of the bed with her eyes up to his chin. He swung her around and in a minute her hands were tied behind her back. 

Her spine moved like a snake wanting to be seduced. Her pretty face was down on the bed with her sexy ebony buttock up to his pleasure. Like in kindergarten, he began with one. One finger into her wet flesh, her moan dragged along with his index inside her, he added another; two, and slowly he struck deep with his wrist twisting into her very soft flesh, she whispered for him to move faster but he didn't like to be told what to do, he pulled out completely. He walked back slowly and leaned against the wall as he watched her beg him. Her pleads were arousing and it made him fly. He nodded at the two girls, naked and perky, they climbed onto the gigantic bed.

"You," he pointed to the one already fingering herself, "stop that. Get closer to her and feed." He nodded towards Angela. She smiled and crawled behind her boss and licked her drip by drip, she used the tip of her tongue to seduce a groan and a scream, then she dined. Her teeth, her lips, her nose all dived into an abundance. She ate slowly then quickly, using a pace that almost created music. Shane was impressed, he nodded towards the second girl that played with her pebbled nipples, "get closer and let her have you."

Pleased like a child given more candy, she moved towards Angela who was still moving recklessly and moaning for release, she kissed her and ate up her screams then like a dancer born to mesmerize, she raised and slid under Angela's jaw, before she could find a balance, Angela's mouth were on her swollen anticipating lips. 

Shane watched his movie and he loved every scene. It was like a short food chain of arousal. He fought the strain of his cock kept safe in his trousers, he didn't touch himself. He was a spectator and he appreciated the performance, he strolled to a large chair opposite the bed, not taking his eyes off his creation, he sat down, stretched his long legs and observed. He saw as Angela arched her back closer to the first lady, the way she was devoured choked her as she couldn't scream with her tongue in another. Their pace united like a fetish rhythm, as Angela slipped out and used her teeth around the clitoris; she was propelled forward with a long, wet organ in her throbbing vulva. It was a sinful harmony that went on so powerfully, it was a surprise the devil didn't come from hell to join. 

Shane rubbed his lips, the marvellous image before him was beginning to get sour, it was midnight after all, it was the time the woman in his dreams came. He cleared his throat and took one long look at the three women on his bed, they enjoyed their feasts and he was about to bring them satisfaction. He stood and walked to dip his fingers into the girl who had fingered herself earlier, his strokes were deep and in three digits, with his other hand in his pocket and his fingers pounding faster, he opened his lips and slightly above a whisper, he commanded, "come." 

"Fuck." "Yes." "Ughh." Their screams came long and hard. 

Shane left the room before they recovered from their orgasm. He entered his bedroom, poured himself a drink and downed it. He sat on his bed, he never and would never share with any woman. His step mother had made him share her bed, any bed she wanted, by force. He wasn't a child but he had been weak and refused to be that. His mind began to recall the events at his father's house and because he had held enough of his temper for the day he flung the glass to the wall, it's broken pieces did not soothe his rage but he itched to throw another. 

"Sir, may I come in?" It was Luke.

"Yes." Shane looked up, a strand of black hair rebelled down his forehead, shadowing his sight.

"Angela is about to leave and asks if she should stay and why you didn't fully participate tonight." Luke broke no tone while he spoke, the activities of his boss weren't strange to him.

Shane frowned and rose slowly, his movement in line with the burning word in his head, why. How comfortable was she that she could ask why. He didn't like answering to anybody. He spent his life being told what to do by his mother, his father and by his bloody stepmother. If he didn't want to fuck he would not. He faced Luke, "give Angela the exclusive farewell. Tell her her services are no longer needed."

Luke nodded and left. A few moments passed and he heard arguments then his name was shouted. He poured himself another glass of scotch and moved to his window. He watched the ladies leave, he didn't know where he would get another mistress as understanding and loyal as Angela but the thing about loyalty was that it attracted familiarity and it blurred a line Shane had marked very early in his life, around the time his step mother would whip him for pleasure and he knew even in the mansion with giant walls his aging father heard his agony but turned the other way. He remembered he stopped screaming when he turned eighteen. He became acquainted with the pain and the darkness drawn from his soul became his only virtue.

He left the window to his bed and drank more than usual. He would make up with his father, he thought, for he had taught him to be the ruthless, brilliant savage he was and maybe he'd make up with Angela, she knew how to let him pleasure his pain with her. 

Gradually, unlike the immortal city of New York, he slept. And he dreamt. 

Ever since he began to dream about the drowning goddess, his nights were of privilege and torture. He knew her to be a goddess, for her beauty was heavenly but the way his arousing dream morphed into a nightmare was hellish. So when Shane, or was it Idris, dreamt that night, he tried to save the goddess, he succeeded then he was the one drowning.