opened the door was that the big garden tub had been surrounded by a half a dozen candles waiting to be lit. There was a joint in the ashtray on the back of the toilet, a small CD player loaded with her favorite tropical music, and a big bottle of lavender bubble bath sitting in the middle of the dry tub with a note that read, "Just add water" written in Samsons hand writing. "Damn, they're good!" she thought. "Now all I need is a drink."
She went back to the dresser and grabbed the bottle of Irish whiskey and a can from the six pack of cola that the guys had left for her. Realizing that she needed ice, she sat them back down and grabbed the little bucket left by housekeeping. Out into the hall, she headed straight for the ice machine, making a mental note that the soda machine had been relocated since her last visit and was now a little further down the same hall. Grateful for the individually wrapped stack of small plastic cups that housekeeping had left beside the ice bucket, she went to work. Several minutes later when the tub was filled up with the hottest water she could stand and the bubbles were heading dangerously towards the edge of the tub, she refilled her little cup and shed her still damp clothing. Naked, with a fresh drink in one hand and a lit joint in the other, she slowly lowered herself into the tub.
Relaxed beyond measure, Stax allowed her mind to wander. She didn't allow her thoughts to go to the hard place right now, instead she thought of how thoughtful and gentle Strangler had been every single minute these last days. This was not the norm. They had a unique relationship to say the least. He could be a total asshole and a bit of a strong willed control freak, and she was an independent, strong willed, Southern Belle. He would call her a 'Bitch', and she would call him a 'Bitch-Fucker'. He would tell her he was going to 'fuck her up' and she would tell him to 'Start fucking and don't stop till I tell you to'. She would tell him to 'Kiss her fat white ass' and he would respond with puckered lips and a, 'Bend over now, Bitch. I ain't got all day.'
They would go tit-for-tat all day long and then end up in each other's arms when the day was done. For them, much of it was foreplay, some of it was venting, and though it often sounded very serious to others, it was just their private form of humour. They each knew exactly how far they could push the other, and there had been a few times that they had come just a little too close to the 'Point of no return'. Neither was willing to give ground in the heat of the moment, things had to simmer down for a minute, and since they were smart enough to let it, it worked.
Each meant the world to the other, and neither was willing to toss it out the window over a contest of wills or a badly timed comment. She allowed him to be him and he allowed her to be her. We'll, most of the time, unless he felt that she said something that made him look weak or he said something that made her seem sub-servient. The truth was, Stax would never intentionally show him disrespect in front of others, no more than she would her own father. She simply wouldn't let things go that far, she would turn it into a joke first. Strangler on the other hand, would tend to take advantage of her natural desire to please and serve those whom she loved, and make it look like she was doing what she was told . This was a button that he loved to push, and often. She knew he did it for kicks and she would usually have a quick witted come-back, however, she could go from a 'Sweet Southern Belle' to a 'Bat Straight From Hell' in a flash, if she wasn't in the right mood.
When he would call her 'Bitch' in public, she truly did not take issue, like other women did. Not only did it turn her on, but they considered it just another term of endearment. She knew that it was something that gave him pleasure, and since she was good with it, she wasn't going to act offended or create drama where there was
Learning to Kill: Stories