Stratus Fear

Chapter 9

When I returned to my own neighborhood in Century City, I passed a few kids playing laser tag in the street. They couldn't be much more than twelve or thirteen, just the age when kids wanted to experience living on the edge.Technically such a sport as laser tag is illegal because lasers can kill if you're hit directly, but I had neither the desire nor legal inclination to put an end to their fun.If they want to kill each other, so be it. One or two less pubescent boys destined for a life of criminal activity wouldn't cause much of a dent in the crime rate.

So, ignoring them, I walked into my faded and crumbling apartment building and then made my way up the rickety stairs.We had an elevator but it rarely worked.I couldn't complain too much, since I was one of the lucky ones who had a semi-decent place to call home.Most people nowadays had to make due living in substandard housing, in their vehicles or at the myriad of community-run shelters.Whole tent cities had sprung up all over the San Fernando Valley thanks to our rampant inflation that seemed to go on and on without a glimmer of hope that it would end soon.The return of prosperity seemed a long-forgotten dream.

But now, with each and every step I climbed, my mood picked up accordingly, especially when I anticipated having real food tonight.I just hoped Rogue had made it home to share it with me.We lived on the fourth floor, our studio apartment furnished in second-hand chic.To make it more personal, I used a rice-paper screen to section off our bedroom area from the living area, and placed rice-paper lantern shades over the bare bulbs.Our "functional" kitchen took up one-half of the rear brick wall, followed by our small, round dining table and two chairs.Rogue told me we could do better, but he preferred a quiet, laid-back lifestyle so no one could accuse us of flaunting our successes--not that we had many.

If I had to describe my lover's profession, I'd have to say a purveyor of goods and services, all had for the right price.Suffice to say he operates just outside the legal limits of commerce, that murky and elusive area known as the Black Market.He can also hack into any computerized system; and as per the wish of a client, find out and manipulate the most sensitive of information.Most of the time, Rogue does it just for the thrill and the challenge of the assignment, with any monetary compensation running a poor second.

By rights as an officer of the law, I should arrest him on a number of charges; but I've come to ignore many such infractions when it suits my purpose.I look the other way, and Rogue does the same with me.

Over the years--almost three to be exact--we have known flush times and lean times.Rogue loves to gamble, winning big at times while other times he craps out totally.Still, we get by, and I've managed to acquire a little monetary nest egg just in case we encounter a rough patch, or if Rogue really does go to jail.

Now as I entered our place I found Rogue stretched along the sofa, his attention riveted to a soccer game on the IMAX screen.When he noticed me he touched the holo-remote control and turned off his sports program.

"Hello, love," he greeted, sitting up."What have you got there?"

After plunking the bags down on the table I quickly pulled out the food stuffs.First came the wrapped steak, then the salad components, and last but not least the champagne and wines.Rogue's gaze grew big and glossy with amazement.

"My Gawd, Cadye-ee, you've finally made the big haul!"

Rushing over to me, he took hold of the steak and weighed it between his hands.Once in a great while, Rogue could score some "real" meat in the way of a chicken liver or a ham hock, but that was only when the market became glutted with extra animal parts, and that had only happened twice in five years.

Now he glowed with excitement."Lovey, this is the finest piece of meat I've seen in almost forever.What did you do to get it, darling, hold up a stall jockey?"In underground lingo the term stall jockey meant someone who operated a clandestine storefront for the purpose of black market sales.

I grinned."Better yet.I raided an apartment on Terre Celeste, and since the owner has departed to greener pastures I knew he wouldn't mind if I helped myself to a little of his bounty."

After carefully returning the meat and wrapper to the table, Rogue slid his arm around my waist and gave me a sly look. "Dead is he?"

"Very dead," I confirmed."Murdered by a sharp blow to his head."

"Ah, too bad for him but wonderful for us."Releasing me he stood back and pondered the fate of the meat."This piece deserves a good charcoal grilling, but since we lack a grill, I guess it's the broiler."

I watched as Rogue grabbed our cutting board and a large carving knife from the utensil drawer.Then placing the meat on the board, he judiciously severed the steak in two, its flesh still a robust pink and marbled.Finished, he glanced up at me with the same excitement I still harbored."How do you want yours, baby?"

I pondered that request a moment.I only had steak once in my life, when at the age of sixteen I accompanied my parents to a formal dinner party where filet mignon had been served."I think just until the cow dies a dignified death."

"Medium rare it is."

While he prepared the steak, I rummaged through our nearly-bare cupboards. "Sorry that I only have dehydrated potato flakes to go along," I admitted, "but I skipped the gentleman's freezer tonight.Perhaps tomorrow I can make a bigger haul, the mother load."

"You did a great job as is, darling.In fact, you're a pincher after me own heart."As I cut the celery and carrot over the lettuce leaves I was unaware of his movements behind me until he grabbed me by the waist, twirled me around, and then hugged me to this chest.Even as his mouth sought mine for a brief kiss, I still reeled under his touch.

Rogue still manages to produce a tumble of emotions, that warm rush of arousal combined with the tingling sensation of desire, and without the soap opera romanticism that always makes me want to gag.He knows how to give and take with premium finesse, always at the right time and in the right places.

Not too bad for a kid who grew up in the East End of London without a male presence to guide him.Rogue's mum divorced his father when Rogue was only three, and she raised her only child on the wages she made as a barmaid.Rogue never really knew his dad, and had no interest in finding his old man as an adult.When not pouring pints at the pub, Jem Grayfalk acted in local theater productions, often bringing her boy along for rehearsals.By the time Rogue reached the age of thirteen, he had already become well versed in the art of back stage seduction, plying his charms on the young actresses who played ingénue parts.He worked on instinct and honed his craft by seducing as many young ladies as possible, eventually graduating to the more experienced, older actresses.

I entertained a certain amount of skepticism when he first told me that story; but he quickly proved me wrong by demonstrating his potent abilities. Needless to say I fell in love with his charms, a brash mix of clever impulsiveness, suave manipulation and profound intelligence.That boyish glint in his blue eyes is just one of his many endearments.He also possesses a strong, attractive face, a passionate mouth, and a head of rich dark curls.

No wonder when we met I had to have more of him.

Now when we parted to finish preparing our meal I felt a pang of regret; although Rogue assured me that we would take up later where we left off.Within minutes my feelings and thoughts elevated to a salivating state of utter bliss as I smelled the steak under the broil.It was not until we finished half of our exquisite meal that I broached the subject of Gavin McAllister's personal files."I'm positive," I stated after a heavenly mouthful of salad, "that he used a password and probably encrypted his information."

"So where's the problem, dear heart?" With a teasing look Rogue savored a bit of his half of the steak, cooked to medium rare perfection and washed down with the superb red wine."Let me have a crack at his machine after dinner and I'll present you with the finished product for dessert."

"Ohm," I purred, "as much as I appreciate the offer, I'd prefer dessert in bed."

He donned that clever smile of his, a cross between the mischievous and the innocent."Oh, you will, lovey, you will, including the whipped cream and cherries on top."

I had to laugh, although secretly I wished I had whipped cream to slather all over his body.

We topped off our meal with a glass of champagne and then sat back sated, happy and aglow with sensory overload.I wished this gorgeous, full feeling would last forever or at least until fall when I received my review and hopefully a raise in pay.Maybe then we could afford more than a chicken wing or a piece of ham, but the whole damned chicken and pig for a change.With a groan, I forced myself to stand and clear the dishes off our little kitchen table.

"Don't worry about that now, love."Rogue came over and snatched the plates from my hands and set them on the sink drain board."Come over here," he coaxed and took me by the hand.