We were people with foundations built on higher education, professional individuals, but all of that learnedness was gone, wiped away by anger, by selfishness, by jealousy, incinerated by a brushfire of emotions, dark emotions that made me feel like I was someone else. And in this irrationality, intellectual words and reasoning were replaced by guttural moans and primal screams. Sounds that echoed the psychological pain rooted in the lower brain and nervous system were exiting with every breath.

She had spit in my face. She had humiliated me. Had defiled my existence.

She had invaded Cobb County, shown up on my front porch.

She had hiked up my stairs, forced her way inside my home.

I had no control over me, not now, the momentum was too powerful. I wanted revenge. I yanked her hair hard as he stroked her toward me. With both hands I forced her face between my thighs. I tried to suffocate her. I tried to smother her song of pain and suffering as he plunged into her over and over.

She was struggling to breathe, her nose moving back and forth across my swollen clit.

This was insane. This was unreal. This was ugly.

It felt as if I had devolved, as if I had fallen into a sexually violent novel by the Marquis de Sade. Or I had been sucked into their mesmerizing opera, its cadence compelling, a beautiful violence that was disturbing, powerful. She had invaded my home, marched into my bedroom like she was with the fucking gestapo, had thrown her rage and arrogance and insults from wall to wall, and was getting punished for her unforgivable actions, not trying to escape the insanity, but behaving like she wanted this, complaining and cursing and crying but not fighting, not the way I would battle if I were being taken against my will.

Maybe she was just weak. Weak for him. Weak enough to submit to what ever he wanted. Or maybe this was part of their game, this was the way they lived and loved and hated each other.

She started to come, her mouth opening so she could moan, so she could breathe. Her mouth opened and I felt her tongue and lips on my yoni, her breath so hot, her breathing so intense.

I moaned, attacked by a fury of tingles, each tingle weakening me, distracting me.

I had to get away from her. This was wrong and I had to cease and desist. I had to stop.

This wasn't right.

This wasn't my definition of plea sure. This was sadistic. Masochistic. But it had momentum.

I cursed her. "I should get my vibrator, see how much shit you talk with it up your ass."

She seized my legs, growled, and pulled me back to her, that action catching me off guard. This wasn't The Jewell of the South I watched on television. The grandiloquent persona she showed the rest of the world was gone. I was running from her, trying to get away, but she wouldn't give me my freedom.

I slapped at her hands, called for help, asked him to get her away from me.

But he couldn't stop. His anger was too strong, his rage too full, had to be emptied for clarity.

My reversal of humiliation had been reversed.

He was taking her.

She was taking me.

He cursed her, gave her vulgar language. She reciprocated, cursed him, damned him.

The sounds of her being taken, their skin slapping, the thunderous sounds from his thrusts, the sweating, the curses, the moans, all of that went on as we fought with each other. The mirrors that were on my walls, it showed us taking and being taken by each other from every angle. Her forcing herself on me with her mouth, my hands pulling her hair, trying to push her away, but her lips were locked on my yoni. I despised her because...she made me feel fire. Her hands and arms locked around my legs, pulled me back to her. She was strong. Much stronger than she looked. She was being stroked hard and her lips were massaging my yoni, my hands in her hair trying to push her head away from my swollen clit. Our back-and-forth struggle went on and on, the power between us shifting with every moment.

With a moan and an utterance of the Lord's name, I surrendered.

I was underwater, drowning, stopped pushing her away, pulled her to me, pulled her with urgency. Pelvic muscles, my yoni, my ass, everything was tensing, my body contracting as spasms made my toes curl, every sound I made, everything about my existence out of my control. I held her face, pushed her tongue and mouth deeper into my tingles. She tried to pull away, tried to push me away from her, tried to abandon me. I held on tight, pulled her into my fire. Powerful burning, tingling, moaning, gasping, eyes rolling in the back of my head, no control over my body, those sensations lasted a lifetime. This could not be happening. But it was. I couldn't stop coming.

My anger returned, its intensity beyond reason.

I tried to suffocate her as I came. Did my best to asphyxiate her. I struggled to regain control, but she proved she had the power. She came after me again, held my legs, pulled me back to her. She sucked my clit and refused to let me go. With her mouth and tongue she gave me her anger. I came like a flash flood. Came like a man, plea sure and pain squirting from my body. Again I saw colorful lights, a kaleidoscope of colors, every color peaceful.

I fell away from her, legs trembling, moaning, my core shaking like I had been beaten in battle.

She was yelping, moaning her angry moan, vibrating, calling out his name with his every thrust.

He was still battling her.

I moved away from my enemy, left her panting for air, left her being punished.

She was shuddering, her beautiful face so ugly, her mouth the letter O, having an orgasm.

She came releasing a quick vibrato, everything about her looking warm, her moans so soft and feminine, almost childlike, then the quality of her voice took on an extraordinary legato, her moans once again changing, like a singer moving from note to note. She came like she was the ultimate soprano, moaning in high G, those moans brighter than the candles that lit up the room, changing to high C as the orgasm grasped her, then changing to D, and as she shuddered, evolved into E-flat and E-natural.

I was frozen, watching her, looking at her reflection in my mirrors, seeing her shadow against my walls, no matter what direction I looked I witnessed the same thing, watched her orgasm in my home.

I looked at her in the candlelight, and even though I hated her, Jewell Stewark's beauty was that of a goddess. I looked at him, that same candlelight illuminating his Mandingo frame.

And in that same light, this was too unreal.

He too looked angry, possessed, his moans reaching notes I'd never heard before.

He was punishing her. And at the same time she was punishing him in return.

He strained, was about to lose control. His operatic moans dark and heavy, the weight of his impending orgasm deepening his timbre, sounding like he was ready to do his solo in a bedroom revival of George Gershwin's Porgy and Bess.

I told him to not put his liquid anger inside her. Told him to pull out of The Jewell of the South.

He did what I said, pulled away from her, his body trembling, unable to go far.

And she went after him, pulled him, wrestled him back to the bed.

She cursed him. "You want me to suck your dick? Is that what you want? Is that all you've missed? Me sucking your dick? Do you miss that? I swore I'd never suck your dick again."

She took him down her throat, held his lingam, masturbated him, made him wail and come as she cried and held on to that part of him, sucked him until he struggled to get free from her hunger.

I moved away from them.

It was just her and him. This was their madness, no longer mine. It had never been mine.

He growled, "You bitch...you crazy bitch...you...you...oh God."

She devoured him. In those moments she owned him. Owned what was un-ownable.

The earthquake that shook my world ended.

The pounding he had given had left him sweating like he was in the noon sun, panting like he was exhausted. He collapsed on the edge of the bed, touching me with his sweaty palms, not touching her. She was within his reach, but he didn't reach for her.

The opera had ended.

Panting, I looked at him, saw regret and shame in his eyes.

He saw anger and confusion, a collection of negative emotions in mine.

I shook my head, disturbed and appalled, but still aroused in a strange way. Aroused by darkness. Aroused by guilt. Maybe the greater the guilt, the stronger the plea sure.

He coughed. "Sorry...sorry about this."

"On my bed."

"I don't know what came over me."

"In my house."

"I'm so sorry."

"You were...fucking her...in front of me...on my bed."

I struggled to catch my breath. Madness refused to dissolve. This was unreal.

She was in a haze, unmoving, looking as if she had ingested opium sap. Strung out, shaky, her eyes closed tight, her mouth in the shape of a silent scream, the agony of withdrawal.

I whispered, "You and Jewell...I...this...you and her...I don't understand..."

"It's Jewell...she's..."

"She's what?"

He didn't answer. His expression was as complicated as the true definition of love.

His angel smiled at me, her gaze consistent, never blinking, unbroken.

I closed my swollen eyes.

He leaned in and kissed me, gave me his tongue, rubbed my face, put his hand in my tangled hair, massaged my scalp before he pulled away from me. Went to the bathroom. Heard him urinating, a long stream that went on forever, as if I was listening to a horse relieve itself. Heard the toilet flush. Water came on in the sink. Water turned off. Paper towel was ripped. Then he came back in the bedroom.

I opened my eyes. Saw the markings on his flesh, his angel staring at me, his sweat her sweat. Her stare was unblinking, unbroken. Bleeding.

The angel stared at me, long scratches across her inked image, as if she had been clawed away during his opening battle with Jewell Stewark.

Jewell Stewark had tried to destroy his angel.

My lover's head was down, shoulders slumped, his eyes avoiding the disgust in mine.

I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, made them all vanish inside darkness, wished this all away.

I heard him dressing, loose change jingling and his belt buckle clanking as he pulled up his pants. He was getting ready to leave, was about to take her and go back to their land of mini castles.

Jewell Stewark whispered, "Karl...please...come back...kiss me the way you kissed her."

She sobbed.

She whispered, "Kiss me the way you used to kiss Kenya."

THIRTY-NINE.

Karl turned away from Jewell Stewark.

Veins in his neck, he growled, "Don't you ever...ever say her name."

"Kiss me like...Karl kiss me...kiss me like...you used to kiss Kenya."

"You fucking hear me?"

I was confused. I was appalled. I was curious.

She growled, "Fuck me like you fucked Kenya."

"Shut up shut your fucking mouth shut the fuck up."

He turned his back, gritted his teeth, and moved away from his sister-in-law.

"Make love to me the way you made love to Kenya."

She taunted him with the name of his angel, taunted him deeper into madness.

He continued cursing her, threatening her, his threats ignored.

It was Karl. Not Mark. Jewell Stewark said his name. Called his name over and over. She had moaned his name. She had put deep scratches in his arm, had defiled his angel, had left hints of blood on his flesh. There was no mistake. Jewell Stewark knew who she incited, who had taken her on my bed. The absurdity of the moment muted me, my mind trying to make what was illogical logical.

Mark hadn't come to me while I waited at Supreme Fish Delight, the pain and sting of his wife's spit in my eye. Mark had called me back, was unable to get away from work at that moment. I couldn't wait for him, not there, had told him to meet me at my home when he was free. In my impatience, in anger, I had called Karl. He had come right away. Had come and rescued me, comforted me as we waited on Mark.

And now Karl stood before me, the scent of his brother's wife on his lingam, the aroma of her angry sex on his softening dick, the scent of her rage on my bed, the scent of madness thickening my air.

His footsteps were heavy as he walked down the stairs, loose change jingling in his pocket.

She called to him, "Sonofabitch. I hate you."

He yelled, "Why do you do this to me? Why do you fuck up everything?"