The Dark Place Behind the Eyes: Vol. 1

By M.L. Flaniken

Perfect: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what if the eyes you behold are found in the DARK PLACE BEHIND THE EYES?

The Studio: An embittered woman will have to share her studio apartment with a resident from the DARK PLACE BEHIND THE EYES.

Commuter Chick: A daily commute to work leads to a hellish ride into the DARK PLACE BEHIND THE EYES.

20/20: Prescription glasses help millions of people see better. However, for one man, a pair of glasses will help him see what lurks in the DARK PLACE BEHIND THE EYES.

Spare Change: The drop of a few coins in a strangers palm could send your soul to the DARK PLACE BEHIND THE EYES.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 14, 2009
• ISBN: 9781462827909

Book preview

The Dark Place

Behind The Eyes

VOL. 1

M.L. Flaniken

Copyright © 2009 by M.L. Flaniken.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

INTRODUCTION

PERFECT

THE STUDIO

20/20

COMMUTER CHICK

SPARE CHANGE

DEDICATION

To my mother who inspired my love of reading. This book is and all others to follow are a culmination of her efforts and to the rest my family and friends whose unlimited support has been a great wealth of creative inspiration.

In loving memory of my uncle whose shining light was extinguished too soon (1950–2008).

INTRODUCTION

THE DARK PLACE BEHIND THE EYES

VOL. 1

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and that the soul represents the duality of man . . . the capacity for good and evil.

The dark place behind the eyes is a supernatural realm that encompasses the history of all of humanity’s beliefs and fears in all its wretched forms since man was created by God or that crawls out of the depths of the ocean to disturb the dust of the earth . . . magic, science, religion, good, evil, angels, devils, superstitions, extraterrestrials, and all the unexplainable things that go bump in the night.

This land, this other dimension is an unfathomable territory existing in every single being on the planet—past, present, and future.

Sometimes the dark place shows itself in the twinkle of the eye and can be set free to walk the earth and to interact with us with dire and sometimes deadly consequences.

Don’t look to long in another’s eyes; you might let the darkness loose . . .

PERFECT

It was the last Friday of the month (beer night) for the two childhood friends. A battle line existed between the two men, and once again, their never-ending cold war raged on.

Settle down? As in one woman? Frank shook his head negatively. Naw, man, playin’ house ain’t in my bag of tricks, dude. You’ve cornered the market on that shitty job, Trent. I’ll tell you what’s not cornered, the international markets, man. I need to travel and take the Mack game overseas! They ain’t up on shit like these hoes are over here, ya know?

See, that’s your problem, Frank. You think dealing with women is just a game to be played. Trent pointed angrily at Frank and said, Besides, that’s a real fucked up thing to say that my marriage to Marcy is a shit job man.

Frank held up his hands in mock surrender. Hey, Trent, don’t get me wrong, man. What you and Marcy have is great. You guys have been married what, ten years? Got a house and a couple of healthy good kids. But you know Marcy has her ways, dude. Hell, my couch has your ass print to prove it!

"I’ll give you that, man. Marcy can be a straight-up bitch at times. But nobody and I mean NOBODY is perfect, Frank," Trent said sourly.

Frank shrugged his shoulders. Oh well. The woman whom I settle down with has to be, fuck that. Frank smiled and made an hourglass figure with his hands. Dynamite body, drop-dead gorgeous with a personality to match.

Trent sneered at his friend over his glass of beer. Yeah, she has to be submissive to your narcissistic bullshit. You know, your fear of commitment makes you a straight up womanizer, Frank.

Yep, my friend, it sure does. Until Ms. Perfect comes along, I’ll be that wild stallion running free across the desert plains, Frank said and ran his fingers across the table and sang the tune to Bonanza.

Trent laughed. One day a woman is going to slap a saddle on your ass man!

Frank got up, slapped his ass pretending he was riding a horse, and said, with a good old country cowboy accent, Well, giddy up, pardner!

Trent yelled Yee-ha! got up, joined Frank’s mock ride, and they rode around the table while singing the Bonanza tune. Both men laughed loudly, oblivious to the stares of amusement they got from the other customers. After the cowboys were finished with their ride and show tune, they grabbed their beers, clanged glasses, said cheers, then raced to drain them. After ordering another pitcher of beer, the two friends caught up on each other’s affairs. Frank started first with his wild tales of the never-ending pursuit of female perfection, and Trent shared his trials and tribulations of being a husband and a father. The alternate lifestyles of both men were always entertaining to each other, and they looked forward to their monthly meetings. However, there were no illusions of how they each felt about the other’s shortcomings.

Frank, at thirty-five, could easily pass for twenty-five. He retained his boyish looks having skipped that preteen pimple stage. Lean and mean with a height of six feet, his looks appealed to women from all walks of life, which had been that way since high school. Frank was very intelligent, witty, and he possessed the gift of gab. He could sell ice to an Eskimo. In short, Frank was a ladies’ man. Trent figured that was Frank’s problem; he was too successful. Why couldn’t he just make one woman deliriously happy? Why break so many hearts? As smart as he was, why couldn’t Frank understand that no woman was perfect?

Trent was only a few months younger than Frank. Frank always thought Trent would have had more success with women if he didn’t play the nice guy. Frank firmly believed in the nice-guy-finishes-last rule (a rule that Frank reminded Trent of constantly in high school). Which was why he thought it was weak of Trent to let himself be taken out the game (as he called it) so fast and easy. Hell, Frank thought, Marcy was a cutie; but Trent has had better-looking women than her. Besides, Marcy was way too bossy!

It was close to 11:00 p.m., and Trent’s field trip pass was about to expire. However, it was Frank who was eyeing his watch (knowing Trent’s curfew, he had scheduled a date at eleven thirty) when Trent whispered, Dude! You won’t believe who just walked in.

Who? Frank asked while reaching for his cell phone.

Tracy. Your ex!

Frank dropped his cell phone. He didn’t hear the sound of it breaking when Tracy approached their table. He hadn’t seen her in months, and she looked great. Of all the breakups (too numerous to name) Frank initiated, the one with her made him feel the guiltiest. Tracy had done nothing wrong, except love him unconditionally. Her demure quality belied her attractiveness. She was about five foot five, petite, with shoulder-length dark brown hair and ample breasts. With her mocha complexion and Nordic features, Tracy was a European dipped in chocolate. If she was taller, she could have been a runway model. Tracy’s sweet innocence and all-around soft-spoken personality was a trap for any man. Even a man like Frank was not immune. Tracy’s sweet gentleness always made him uncomfortable. As he rose to greet her, she grasped his arm and pecked him lightly on the cheek. Both men could tell Tracy was nervous. She clutched at her purse like a schoolgirl, hugging it close to herself while covering up her bosom. Trent could see how her innocence would attract and repulse a guy like Frank. Wolf meets sheep  . . . gobble, gobble. Trent could see Frank’s jaw was set in anger at the intrusion. He broke up the growing tension by speaking first.

Tracy! Hey, how ya been girl?

Hi, Trent. How are Marcy and the kids?

Fine, fine. Hey, have a seat. Can I get you a drink? Trent replied, knowing the invite would piss Frank off. He knew the eyeing of the watch meant a hot date was booked. Trent smiled broadly as Frank shot him an angry glance

Tracy saw the menacing glance as well and looked down at the floor. No, but thanks really. Oh, Frank, you’ve broken your cell phone. When she bent down to retrieve it, Frank leaned over to get a peak at her cleavage but got caught looking. "Chin up, Frank. Listen, can you meet me tomorrow for dinner? There’s someone I’d like you to meet."

Shit, Tracy, I not going to appraise your future boyfriend.

It’s a girl, Frank. Listen, I have to go. Trent it was nice to see you again. Say hi to Marcy and the kids for me. She hugged him. Frank, I’ll call you tomorrow. Tracy tossed him his cell phone. Better get this fixed. You wouldn’t want to miss my call.

Frank’s interest was peaked. What, is she all that?

I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. She flashed him a sly, devious smile. Whoa, Frank thought as she turned and left, I haven’t seen that look before. Trent also thought a change had come over Tracy. The sheep bites back.

When Frank fiddled with his cell phone, Trent asked, Hot date?

Ah, the bitch can wait.

Looks like Tracy’s finally getting over you pal, Trent mused, testing Frank’s temperament.

What it looks like is a threesome, Trent, Frank said nonchalantly. He sat back and crossed his arms ready to resume the battle. Frank’s smug look and uncaring attitude irritated Trent to no end.

Goddammit, Frank, hasn’t Tracy been through enough? I’m really glad she finally stood up to your ass. Immediately Trent wished he hadn’t said that. He knew it didn’t take much to rile Frank; his bad temper was about as short as an ant’s dick (a length that Trent constantly reminded Frank of in high school). Trent feared Tracy would be the recipient of his wrath, but it was too late; the damage was done. Frank always lost his temper when he didn’t have the upper hand or someone got the best of him. He slammed both hands on the table.

So you saw that shit too, huh? Oh, I’m definitely gonna speak to her ass about it too. Don’t no motherfucking bitch front me off in public! Frank said angrily. He quickly drained his beer and asked for the check.

Trent tried to calm him down. That was just me fucking with you, Frank. You know Tracy’s one of the sweetest girls in the world. Frank just smiled, pointed to his watch then at Trent, and walked his fingers across the table. Trent sighed, knowing exactly what Frank was getting at. He had to get home or Marcy would have his ass. Besides, Frank wasn’t good company when he was angry. He felt sorry for the woman whom Frank was to meet later on because she was in for a long, rough night. Not to mention poor Tracy. Her eardrums would be bleeding by the time Frank finished speaking to her. Both men stood up to leave and embraced. Trent walked as fast as he could without running while looking at his watch.

Frank yelled out to Trent, You better run, man! And when Trent did just that, Frank laughed his ass off. Frank’s broken cell phone stared up at him when he started to leave. He smiled, picked it up, and kissed it because the phone would come in handy. A broken cell phone would be the perfect excuse for not calling back bothersome females.

Tracy knew quite well that she had incurred Frank’s wrath. After leaving him and Trent, she immediately called his house and left all the meeting information on his answering machine.

Frank arrived home early Saturday morning, basking in his latest conquest; the victim was a flight attendant from Chicago. He chuckled to himself picturing her walking painfully up and down the plane. She asked him to be gentle with her because she was covering for a friend, which meant working a double shift. However, Frank was far from being gentle. She shouted obscenities at him before he left while soaking in the tub. Frank laughed at her scornfully. Well, I just wanted to make sure you represent me properly, you lousy stewardess.

It’s flight attendant, you bastard! She cried.

Whatever, bitch! Frank shot back as he headed for the door. While the flight attendant shouted another round of curses at him, a cruel, devious smiled crossed his face, seeing the case of precious china by the door. Frank slammed the door as hard as he could; her blasphemous rebellion instantly turned to screams of terror at the sound of breaking glass. Frank opened the door again sincerely apologized and slammed the door again. He laughed delightedly all the way to his car when he heard another loud crash. Before he drove off, he sent her a text: Never hang family portraits over a glass case, dummy. Buy a lot of glue, bitch!

When Frank arrived home, he listened to Tracy’s message and yelled at the answering machine. Shit, Tracy, today? That means breaking three dates! Fuck, he muttered to himself, this broad better be worth it.

Frank arrived early and wasn’t thrilled at the choice of the restaurant. Even though they served excellent seafood, the atmosphere was impersonal. The crowd was loud, boisterous, and there were no booths. When Frank searched for Tracy, he spotted her greeting a vision of loveliness.

The vision was almost as tall as he was, at least five feet, eleven inches. Her skin was the color of coffee, with a little too much cream. The woman’s creamy complexion contrasted nicely against the short, tight red dress she wore, which was by the way his favorite color on women. Frank could tell the woman worked out. She had a flat stomach, with a hint of a six-pack. Her arms and long, shapely legs were lightly toned and unblemished. Wearing no bra, her firm, round, medium breast fought the material, wanting to greet the world. She had full lips that glistened moistly with red lipstick; and long, luxurious, naturally curly light-brown hair framed her face. However, a pair of expensive black sunglasses hid the eyes. Suddenly Frank’s lips became dry from breathing through an open mouth; he licked them with hungry anticipation. The vision spotted him. She gave him the sexiest smile he had ever seen. She slowly slid down her sunglasses to reveal her eyes, which were a sparkling hazel. Frank thought she would be perfect if her eyes were green. What the fuck? Frank muttered and wiped his eyes. Instantly, the woman’s eyes had changed color, they were now green.

Tracy waved him and called out, Frank! Over here! Frank walked over, still wiping his eyes. He blinked several times and looked again. Yep, still green. It has to be the lighting, he thought. Tracy introduced them simply and quickly. Frank, Samantha. Samantha, Frank.

Frank’s eyes blatantly crawled over Samantha’s body like a spider as they all sat down, and he made it a point to sit directly across from her. He held out his hand and said, Hey, Samantha, it’s a pleasure. Once again, she flashed him that sexy smile while grasping his hand. Frank quickly snatched back his hand in pain; it was like shaking hands with an eagle. Samantha suddenly dropped her napkin and reached under the table to get it. This time Frank yelped out feeling a sharp pain along his calf. The pain made him jump up, banging his knee painfully against the table. Frank scooted back his chair, inspected his calf, and saw an angry red scratch mark. With lightning fast reflexes, he grabbed both of Samantha’s hands roughly and inspected them.

Frank! What’s wrong with you? Tracy exclaimed. Frank stared at Samantha’s hands in amazement. They were soft, and all the tips of her nails were rounded smooth.

He let go, dumbfounded. Nothing. Must have been a cramp. Sorry, Samantha.

Samantha continued holding up her hands and said innocently, Why, Frank, if you wanted to see my freshly painted nails all you had to do was ask. You like? Tracy was perplexed. She’d never seen Frank nervous around a woman. Frank noticed Tracy’s look of wonderment. Things were not going well; he needed a drink and had to regroup.

Frank quickly stood up and said, I’m going to the bar. You ladies want anything?

Samantha responded with a sultry voice, No. But thanks for offering, Frank. Tracy just shook her head no, eyeing him curiously; she was beginning to enjoy watching Frank come apart at the seams. At the bar, Frank ordered a double shot of whiskey and winced in pain when he grabbed the drink. He finished it in two swallows and said to himself, Get it together. She is just another female  . . . isn’t she? Frank tried to erase the seed of doubt by ordering another double.

As the booze and confidence settled in, Frank returned to the table. Tracy was gone. Where’s Tracy? he asked.

Samantha shrugged her shoulders and said, Tracy said she was sorry, but something came up. I assured her you would be in good hands. She flashed him a toothpaste commercial smile and wiggled her fingers playfully. Then she propped her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands. A chill went down Frank’s spine. He stared into the depths of her green eyes, drawn to her like moth to a flame and was lost. Frank was startled out of his stupor by the waiter who asked him if he was ready to order. Samantha already had. Frank wondered, How the hell had I missed that?

The waiter gave him that I understand she’s fine as fuck look. Uh, I’ll have what she’s having, Frank muttered.

Okay, two seafood platters coming up. Will there be anything else? the waiter inquired.

No, Samantha said without taking her eyes off Frank.

I’ll have another whiskey, Frank interjected. Samantha slowly turned her head toward the waiter.

"That will be ALL, Waiter. Thank you." The waiter quickly scuttled away never giving Frank a second look. He sat back and glared at her and thought, I am really going to have to teach this bitch some home training. She pouted her luscious lips and said, Sorry, Frank. I just wanted your undivided and unimpeded attention. Frank’s anger melted away like butter.

During dinner, Frank was a deer frozen in headlights. He barely ate because he could not take his eyes off her. Samantha broke the quiet by asking, Want a kiss, Frank?

Hell, yeah, he said too quickly.

Samantha leaned forward and whispered, Hell, it is. Total amazement became his world when Samantha tilted her head back, poured a whole bottle of Tabasco sauce into her mouth, walked over to him, and sat in his lap. When she french kissed him, his mouth immediately became an inferno. The force of the kiss toppled them backward. Stars swam before his eyes when they hit the floor. Samantha’s tongue twirled around his own like a fiery phoenix. What their mouths couldn’t contain ran down his chest, ruining the shirt. Samantha stuffed her phone number in his pocket and got off his lap. Gotta go, Frank, call me. The restaurant exploded with applause and catcalls as she left.

Hot with sauce and shame Frank waved the waiter over and croaked, A pitcher of water and the check, please! The restaurant roared with laughter while Frank tried desperately to put out the fire raging in his mouth.

Fifteen minutes later, Frank sat in his car fuming; he was too angry to drive. He screamed, Oh, I’m sooo gonna fuck you and leave your stupid ass, you fucking bitch! His stomach answered back by growling. I’ll be damned. I paid for a meal I didn’t even eat. The greedy hoe ate her meal and mine!

Frank woke up Sunday morning feeling like shit. He had a throbbing headache, a queasy stomach, and a sore mouth. The doorbell rang. Goddamn, hope it’s a nurse. He muttered while staggering to the door and unlocking it. The doorbell rang again while he retreated to the couch. Come in! he yelled angrily. The door opened and revealed a nurse. She was dressed up for a porn flick audition. The white uniform was very tight and short (way above the thigh). It was also unbuttoned midway, revealing a lacey hot pink push-up bra, exposing lots of cleavage. Her legs adorned thigh-high white leather stiletto boots. She wore framed black reading glasses with her hair slicked back in a bun, and on top was a tiny nurse’s cap. The lipstick matched the bra, and in her hands, she held a thermos and two martini glasses. Samantha? Frank said hesitantly.

Hi, Frank. I had a feeling you might need some TLC. I was right because you look like shit.

Gee, thanks, he groaned and flopped on the couch.

Samantha filled a martini glass with a dark liquid and gave it to him. Here, drink this. Frank sniffed; it smelled herbal and tasted brackish. She sat across from him, on one of his kitchen chairs, not bothering to cross her legs. Frank peered over the top of the glass, gawked at her exposed lacey pink panties, and felt himself stiffen. He drained the glass, grimacing at the foul-tasting liquid. When Samantha stood up and slipped out of her uniform, Frank forgot to ask her what was in it. It will make you feel better and give you your strength back. Then I will drain you again.

They saw each other every night for two weeks, and Frank was exhausted. He had been with lots of women and was always in control, until now. Sexually, Samantha totally dominated him. The woman was insatiable, her sexual stamina was unnatural, and he wondered if she had just gotten out of prison or something. Another even more sinister thought that kept dancing around in his head was Samantha’s strength. When she mounted him, she always pinned his arms down forcibly. Was she actually physically stronger than he was? Worst yet, he suspected she was purposely holding back. If so, how was such a thing even possible? He figured Samantha only weighed about 130 pounds tops, and he could bench 350 pounds on a good day. As the frightening thoughts raced through his mind, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was extremely sleep deprived. Every time she came over, he got little sleep if any at all. When he was too tired to perform, she had him drinking that strange concoction. It was better than Viagra, several cups of coffee and vitamins combined, and he still didn’t know what was in it. Frank thought to himself, Yeah, Samantha was perfect . . . a perfect challenge. She would be his greatest conquest. We will see who dominates whom. Just give me some time, bitch, just give me some time.

By the end of the second week, Friday morning, the boss called Frank into his office. Come on in, Frank, have a seat, Ted said, waving him in without looking up from his work. Frank knew that was a bad sign.

Hey, Ted, what’s up?

Have you looked in the mirror lately? You look like shit, and your numbers are down. I think it’s time for a vacation, Frank. Frank started to protest. Ted held up his hand. Look, Frank, you are the best salesman I got. I’m not worried about your sales slipping some, but let’s have it by a landslide. I know things have been hectic around here, and I’ve been pushing. You’ve always come through for me. So if it means losing you for a while to have you come back fresh, so be it. Frank started to protest again, but Ted cut him off by saying, Three weeks, Frank. That’s not going on the books. Now get the hell outta my office.

Frank got up, pretended to kick a can, and said, Okay, you big bully. I know when I’m not wanted. Ted laughed heartily. They shook hands warmly. No, but really, Ted, thanks. You know I appreciate this.

No problem. Just come back fresh.

You got it.

While Frank said good-byes to his coworkers, he learned everyone in the office shared Ted’s opinion. Frank could not believe it. They all thought Ted was working him too hard. What a joke. He could do sales blindfolded and standing on his head. Frank mused, Ted old buddy, you just gave me three weeks paid vacation for fucking a bitch entirely too much. Life is good! He laughed drunkenly and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He had grocery bags, bloodshot eyes, a three-day beard, and he needed a haircut. Aw naw! That bitch has gotten me all twisted! But oh, Samantha, that will change, sweetheart, that will change. As soon as I catch up on my sleep, I need to refocus by making the rounds. Yeah, the time off would really do me some good!

While driving home, Frank started weaving. He was so tired; he decided to check himself into a motel and got three days of undisturbed sleep. Refreshed, he returned home. There were a dozen phone messages waiting for him. The calls came from Trent, Tracy, Samantha, and several other women. Everyone else but Tracy would have to wait. He needed to get the 411 on Samantha first.

Tracy, this is Frank, pick up.

Frank’s call woke Tracy up. She answered groggily, Um, hello?

It’s Frank.

Tracy perked up hearing his voice. Oh, Frank! Are you all right? I’ve been so worried about you since I introduced you to Samantha.

Tracy’s concern sent off warning bells to Frank. Oh really? How did you meet Samantha anyway? What’s her story?

It’s kind of weird. At first I thought she was one of your old flames.

What? I don’t fuckin’ know her! Frank exclaimed, barely containing his growing anger and alarm.

Tracy ignored his outburst. She just popped up at my office a little over a week before I told you about her. She asked me if I wanted to get over you. Frank, you know I am a private person, and I wasn’t planning on going into any particulars with one of your conquests. So I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about. But somehow, she knew the intimate details of our relationship, Frank. I told her that was none of her business, but she wouldn’t stop it, Frank, she wouldn’t stop! Tracy’s emotions boiled over, and she began to cry, which Frank always hated to see or hear. Her tears were a chink in his armor. Hell, Tracy was the chink in his armor; he treated her better than he treated any other woman. He prided himself on that. Now his treatment was in jeopardy, and that made him angry. However, Frank knew he had to keep cool because of the unusual circumstances.

He gritted his teeth and tried his best not to yell. Tracy, you know I would never talk to other women about us or anyone. Hell, Trent doesn’t know the details. Besides, I’ve never met her before!

At the time, I thought you were the biggest asshole on earth, Frank. Who else could have told her? It was Tracy’s turn to be angry. She let the question hang in the air as if giving him a chance to admit the discretion. Frank was no dummy; he kept silent. So I said that she could have an asshole like you, I didn’t care. She just gave me this weird, knowing smile and laughed at me. She said I wasn’t ready yet and to sleep on it, and she would come back in a few days, and I would tell her what she wanted to hear. I asked her what would happen then and she said just introduce her. I said okay fine just to get her out of my office. She really scared me, Frank. The fear in Tracy’s voice gave Frank goose bumps. An icy knot of fear grew in the pit of his stomach.

Okay. Go on, he whispered encouragingly.

Tracy started crying again. I had nightmares for two days, Frank. They were awful!

What were they about? he asked impatiently.

They were about us, Frank! She snapped. What it would’ve been like had I stayed with you. Don’t ask me the details, Frank, it was too awful. But I will tell you this, they were real.

Frank laughed out his skepticism. Oh, come on! They were just dreams, Tracy.

She hissed back, "They were fucking