Black Rock

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Black Rock Page 20

by Steve Harris


  S’n’J didn’t dis­be­li­eve this for a se­cond. Janet’s se­xu­al ap­pe­ti­te was le­gen­dary. She pro­bably wo­uld ha­ve gi­ven Black Rock’s Snowy Dres­den a run for her mo­ney.

  S’n’J sa­id go­odb­ye to Janet, put the pho­ne back on the ba­se and jum­ped when it im­me­di­ately be­gan to ring. She wa­ited un­til it had stop­ped, then switc­hed on the ans­we­ring mac­hi­ne. She pa­used in ca­se the cal­ler rang aga­in and let her mind wan­der back to the su­bj­ect of James. And sex.

  Then she de­ci­ded that she might just as well stay in the bath un­til he ar­ri­ved. Not be­ca­use she in­ten­ded to drag him in the­re with her as Janet wo­uld ha­ve do­ne, but be­ca­use the wa­ter was so­ot­hing her hurts and be­ca­use she wan­ted to re­ad the rest of the bo­ok chap­ter.

  You’re not fo­oling an­yo­ne, my girl, she told her­self in her mot­her’s vo­ice. You’ve got the mo­rals of an al­ley cat!

  S’n’J smi­led and got back in the bath. Af­ter a whi­le she pic­ked up the fin­ger-dam­pe­ned pa­ges and be­gan to re­ad.

  A whi­le af­ter that she to­tal­ly for­got abo­ut James.

  Be­ca­use of what was hap­pe­ning to Snowy.

  Snowy re­al­ly was trap­ped.

  As she re­ad on, S’n’J felt as if she was slowly sin­king in qu­ick­sand which wo­uld so­on suf­fo­ca­te her. She fan­ci­ed she’d se­en the ‘elect­ri­cal-items-that-work-whi­le-unplug­ged’ trick in ot­her no­vels (inclu­ding one of Ste­ve Byrne’s) and the plun­ge thro­ugh the uni­ver­se was fa­mi­li­ar from Step­hen King’s It but ot­her things rang with a very nasty re­so­nan­ce.

  The myste­ri­o­us Pe­ter Per­fect se­emed to be awa­re, for ins­tan­ce, that S’n’J had be­en unab­le to bre­ak the win­dows of Black Rock that af­ter­no­on. That she’d se­arc­hed for a back do­or which didn’t exist. That one of her night­ma­res con­cer­ned dying of thirst in a pla­ce whe­re you sho­uld ha­ve be­en ab­le to find drin­king wa­ter. That she so­me­ti­mes ne­atly alig­ned ho­use­hold items for go­od luck.

  And the furt­her she re­ad, the mo­re con­vin­ced she be­ca­me that Snowy Dres­den wasn’t just a co­in­ci­den­ce, but an in­ten­ti­onal fac­si­mi­le of her­self. And that Black Rock wasn’t just an un­pub­lis­hed hor­ror no­vel, but a ma­li­ci­o­us plan for the li­fe of Sa­rah-Jane Dres­den.

  It was all im­pos­sib­le, of co­ur­se, but that didn’t stop S’n’J from gi­ving it due con­si­de­ra­ti­on.

  The pho­ne be­gan to ring aga­in whi­le Snowy was bu­sily alig­ning all the things in the lo­un­ge to po­int at the front wall of the ho­use.

  S’n’J bro­ke out of the story and glan­ced at the win­dow-sill upon which sto­od per­haps fif­te­en or twenty bot­tles and pac­kets of va­ri­o­us si­zes; everyt­hing you co­uld ever ima­gi­ne using in a bath. And all of it was ne­atly alig­ned in ranks, the la­bels not fa­cing her, but po­in­ted to­wards what she fondly ima­gi­ned was mag­ne­tic north.

  It had star­ted with the ra­zor, of co­ur­se. She ow­ned an an­ci­ent ste­el Gil­let­te job that she’d sto­len from her fat­her, back in the dark ages. And she’d stuck with it. Tho­se gad­gets that yan­ked the ha­irs from yo­ur legs using ro­ta­ting discs hurt. Any­way, she’d he­ard sto­ri­es abo­ut lengt­he­ning the li­fe of ra­zor bla­des by alig­ning the­ir cut­ting ed­ges to cor­res­pond with the earth’s li­nes of mag­ne­tic for­ce. And so­mew­he­re along the way, it had oc­cur­red to her that if she we­re to li­ne up all the things sur­ro­un­ding the ra­zor, so they too fa­ced the sa­me way, per­haps they wo­uld act as a kind of fo­cu­sing de­vi­ce and ma­ke the bla­de shar­per still, or inc­re­ase its lon­ge­vity.

  But now she’d had it po­in­ted out to her in the story it no lon­ger se­emed to be a silly ex­pe­ri­ment she’d do­ne for fun, but a sign of po­ten­ti­al men­tal di­sor­der. The kind of thing a crazy per­son might do.

  The pho­ne had rung three ti­mes by the ti­me she’d ri­sen from the bath on­ce mo­re. She’d tur­ned on the ans­wer pho­ne aga­in; so af­ter the fo­urth ring, the cal­ler wo­uld he­ar the ‘I’m too busy with the Chip­pen­da­les,’ mes­sa­ge so S’n’J wrap­ped her­self in her wet to­wel and hur­ri­ed up the hall to see if who­ever it was wo­uld spe­ak.

  ‘Lo­ok Es­se­nj­ay, this is Mar­tin, and I’m wor­ri­ed abo­ut you,’ a pe­eved vo­ice sa­id in a to­ne with which she was all too fa­mi­li­ar. S’n’J flip­ped him a V sign and tho­ught, Up yo­ur pi­pe!

  ‘Wo­uld you ple­ase call me and let me know you’re OK,’ he sa­id, ga­ve the of­fi­ce num­ber and rang off.

  I know you’re not the­re, Mar­tin, she tho­ught.

  The qu­es­ti­on was, whe­re was he? He­re in Bu­de? Af­ter all he co­uld ha­ve be­en tel­ling the truth when he’d told Janet he wasn’t at his wi­fe’s ho­use. If she rang Ace and left a vo­ice-ma­il mes­sa­ge for him, he co­uld call in and ha­ve that mes­sa­ge pla­yed back to him from whe­re­ver he was - be it Bu­de or Ber­lin.

  S’n’J cal­led the of­fi­ce, just to be su­re he wasn’t the­re af­ter all. She got thro­ugh to his vo­ice-ma­il box, and told him that she was just le­aving the ho­use to go and stay with her sis­ter in Scar­bo­ro­ugh. She omit­ted her ‘sis­ter’s’ Chris­ti­an na­me this ti­me, but ga­ve the sa­me ad­dress and ex­ten­ded the sa­me in­vi­ta­ti­on. Mar­tin, if he was free, wo­uld be wel­co­me to jo­in her the­re.

  Suck on that! she told him, put­ting the pho­ne down aga­in. She co­uld play Sec­ret Squ­ir­rel ga­mes too.

  Then she di­al­led the num­ber of Mar­tin’s ex-ma­ri­tal ho­me. Whe­re he used to li­ve be­fo­re she’d sto­len him away from po­or An­gie. Whe­re he’d be­en li­ving ever sin­ce S’n’J had thrown him out if the truth we­re known.

  Which it is, by cer­ta­in pe­op­le, she tho­ught.

  She felt sorry for An­gie on two co­unts. First (albe­it unk­no­wingly sin­ce Mar­tin had sa­id he was se­pa­ra­ted), she’d ta­ken away the po­or wo­man’s hus­band, and then, to add in­sult to inj­ury, she’d gi­ven him back aga­in. S’n’J didn’t know which one she felt wor­se abo­ut. An­gie might ha­ve be­en un­lucky to lo­se her hus­band, but as far as S’n’J was con­cer­ned, get­ting him back sho­uld ha­ve ma­de her fe­el as if so­me­one up the­re re­al­ly had it in for her.

  Up in Lon­don, so­me­one had lif­ted the re­ce­iver. Who­ever it was didn’t spe­ak, but the bre­at­hing S’n’J co­uld he­ar qu­ite pla­inly be­lon­ged to Mar­tin. It was the tight ches­ted, shud­de­ring, sort of bre­at­hing you wo­uld be most li­kely to he­ar when Mar­tin was on top of you, using you as the hu­man equ­iva­lent of an inf­la­tab­le doll.

  For a mo­ment, she co­uldn’t comp­re­hend the mes­sa­ges the bre­at­hing con­ta­ined. Not only was Mar­tin not he­re in Bu­de, stal­king her li­ke the mad­man she half-sus­pec­ted he’d be­co­me, but she had in­ter­rup­ted him whi­le he was fuc­king An­gie.

  This is im­pos­sib­le, she tho­ught and be­fo­re she co­uld stop her­self, had as­ked, ‘Mar­tin?’

  ‘Essen jay?’

  In a sing­le word his bre­athy vo­ice ma­na­ged to con­ta­in shock, ho­pe, de­light and ext­re­me lust. A lar­ge and aw­ful pic­tu­re of Mar­tin for­med in S’n’J’s mind. He was stan­ding in the hall of An­gie’s ho­use, na­ked and swe­ating, his fa­ce red­de­ned with exer­ti­on and his thin­ning blond ha­ir plas­te­red down and dar­ke­ned with mo­is­tu­re. He was hol­ding the pho­ne to his ear with his right hand and clutc­hing his erect pe­nis with his left. In a mo­ment he wo­uld le­er and say, ‘I’ve got so­met­hing for you, lit­tle girl. So­met­hing ni­ce. So­met­hing big and hard and tasty…’

  S’n’J win­ced and slam­med the pho­ne back in­to its crad­le. For a few se­conds she gla­red at it as if it held the so­le r
es­pon­si­bi­lity for what had just ta­ken pla­ce. Then she shud­de­red in dis­gust and won­de­red how she’d ever let Mar­tin anyw­he­re ne­ar her.

  She put the ima­ge out of her mind.

  Mar­tin was in Lon­don. That was the im­por­tant thing. It me­ant that he wasn’t go­ing to turn up he­re to­night. Not if he was at ho­me fuc­king po­or An­gie.

  It did ra­ise mo­re qu­es­ti­ons tho­ugh. Li­ke the iden­tity of the mystery ma­il-man who’d be­en in­si­de the ho­use al­re­ady to­day, and who had re­tur­ned, de­li­ve­red aga­in and va­nis­hed in­to thin air.

  A fresh pic­tu­re for­med in S’n’J’s mind, in the spa­ce so re­cently va­ca­ted by the ima­ge of Mar­tin. This one sho­wed her Mr Win­ter fol­ding up. This ti­me he didn’t do it on the pe­rip­hery of her vi­si­on, but squ­are in the cent­re of her mind’s eye. He flat­te­ned and fol­ded do­ub­le, ac­ross his wa­ist first, then thro­ugh the cent­re of his body. And as she watc­hed, the ra­te at which it hap­pe­ned ac­ce­le­ra­ted mas­si­vely. The first two folds we­re easy to see, then he be­ca­me a flic­ke­ring blur of flat pla­nes which hal­ved and shut down li­ke a stack of pa­ges be­ing rif­fled. It to­ok less than a se­cond for him to be­co­me the si­ze of a gra­in of su­gar. Then he simply snap­ped out of exis­ten­ce.

  She for­ced this ima­ge off its men­tal can­vas and fi­led it un­der ‘hal­lu­ci­na­ti­on’.

  S’n’J was now no lon­ger re­al­ly cer­ta­in she wan­ted to wel­co­me James whi­le dres­sed only in a to­wel, but, she sat down on the to­ilet se­at to fi­nish the last story pa­ges, not kno­wing if she was be­ing ma­ni­pu­la­ted, or how to co­un­ter it if she was. The only co­ur­se of ac­ti­on open to her at the mo­ment was to re­ad what she was sent and awa­it furt­her de­ve­lop­ments.

  Insi­de fi­ve mi­nu­tes Pe­ter Per­fect had ho­oked her aga­in. She had for­got­ten all her own prob­lems and was eng­ros­sed with tho­se of her na­me­sa­ke who had du­ti­ful­ly li­ned up all the obj­ects in the lo­un­ge and who was now stan­ding by the open front do­or won­de­ring if she sho­uld go back to the kitc­hen for the car keys she ne­eded.

  Her he­art sank when she re­ac­hed the end of the pa­ge on which Snowy, ha­ving fi­nal­ly got the keys had fled the ho­use and run stra­ight in­to Phi­lip Win­ter’s arms.

  She tur­ned the pa­ge over, ho­ping for mo­re, but that, ap­pa­rently, that was the end of the chap­ter.

  14 - Sarah-Jane’s Romantic Interlude

  S’n’J was still in the bath­ro­om when the let­ter-box flap rat­tled aga­in.

  ‘Oh no!’ she mo­aned.

  But when she got out in­to the hall the­re was no buff A4 en­ve­lo­pe on the mat awa­iting her at­ten­ti­on. And who­ever it was out­si­de was still the­re be­ca­use the flap rat­tled a se­cond ti­me.

  S’n’J put the se­cu­rity cha­in on be­fo­re she ope­ned the do­or, then when she saw who it was, wis­hed she hadn’t.

  ‘Hi­ya,’ James sa­id.

  He lo­oked even bet­ter cle­an than he’d do­ne dirty and S’n’J felt the sun bre­ak thro­ugh the clo­uds in her mind. Its rays scat­te­red her tho­ughts abo­ut the bo­ok in every di­rec­ti­on. They skit­te­red away li­ke be­ads of mo­is­tu­re drop­ped on a hot pan.

  ‘Hel­lo,’ she sa­id, thro­ugh lips that had sud­denly for­med them­sel­ves in­to a big, play­ful grin. ‘Co­me in,’ she in­vi­ted, un­ho­oking the cha­in and step­ping back.

  Her mo­ve­ments had lo­ose­ned the to­wel she’d wrap­ped aro­und her­self and as she sto­od back it star­ted to slip. She strug­gled to stay in­si­de it, then re­ali­zed that if she tur­ned ro­und James was go­ing to be tre­ated to a vi­ew of her ba­re bot­tom.

  She tho­ught of what Janet had sa­id then and fo­und that a subs­tan­ti­al part of her wan­ted to flash her be­hind at him. It’s one of yo­ur best as­sets, if you’ll par­don the pun, she told her­self, whi­le she wrest­led with the con­cept.

  Don’t! her Girl Gu­ide vo­ice war­ned.

  But Janet’s words abo­ut get­ting him in the bath in­si­de three se­conds rang in her mind, and vi­si­ons of Snowy and Phi­lip Win­ter fuc­king li­ke ani­mals swar­med in her he­ad and S’n’J sud­denly felt drunk with de­si­re and very da­ring in­de­ed. Her he­art whac­ked hard aga­inst her ribs, her blo­od pres­su­re ro­se and she be­gan to tremb­le fa­intly, right down to what se­emed to be the co­re of her be­ing. She fo­ught it for two se­conds whi­le she sta­red in­to James’ brown eyes and re­gis­te­red his slightly puz­zled smi­le, then she let her­self go.

  ‘Fol­low me,’ she sa­id, tur­ning, and led him in­to the lo­un­ge.

  Whe­re she dis­co­ve­red that her de­si­re equ­al­led that of her na­me­sa­ke.

  Half-way ac­ross the lo­un­ge, she tur­ned back to him, let the to­wel fall and to­ok him in her arms.

  James was tal­ler than Mar­tin, his body har­der, his lips mo­re gent­le, his ton­gue mo­re fer­vent. His hands we­re stron­ger but pos­ses­sed a skill that Mar­tin’s wo­uld ne­ver ha­ve.

  S’n’J to­ok his jac­ket off him, to­re his shirt off and fo­und her lips aga­inst pec­to­rals that we­re not empty sacks of skin, but firmly musc­led. His body smel­led go­od. S’n’J to­ok one of his nip­ples bet­we­en her te­eth and James mo­aned, his hands tigh­te­ning for a mo­ment aga­inst her but­tocks.

  She bro­ke away from him, shud­de­ring, and sta­red in­to his fa­ce. ‘Hel­lo James,’ she sa­id, ‘I’m glad you ca­me.’ And hol­ding his ga­ze, she un­but­to­ned his je­ans, fo­und the zip­per and lo­we­red it. He was big­ger than Mar­tin, she knew that al­re­ady, but she wan­ted to see. She had to see. She to­ok the wa­ist­band of his je­ans and drag­ged them down his hips, ta­king his shorts with them.

  The sight that gre­eted her was per­fect and it pul­sed with his he­art­be­at.

  S’n’J ran her fin­ger­tips down its length and watc­hed the re­sul­tant mus­cu­lar spasm.

  ‘I want you,’ she he­ard her­self say and en­circ­led his erec­ti­on with her hand. It se­emed al­most as big as her wrist and as hard as the gra­ni­te her fa­vo­uri­te ha­un­ted ho­use was bu­ilt upon. S’n’J felt as if she was co­ming apart in­si­de. As if she might so­on die of de­si­re. When she to­ok him in­to her mo­uth James ma­de a so­und li­ke a lit­tle boy who is clo­se to te­ars and its wan­ting to­ne dro­ve S’n’J over the ed­ge. Every ner­ve en­ding she had fiz­zled li­ke fi­re­works.

  ‘Lie down,’ she sa­id bre­ath­les­sly. ‘On yo­ur back.’

  James did as he was told and S’n’J strad­dled him, and lo­we­red her­self on to him.

  Du­ring the next ten mi­nu­tes she let her­self turn in­to the sa­me kind of in­sa­ti­ab­le ani­mal that Snowy Dres­den was sup­po­sed to be.

  Only when she was worn out did she climb off James (who was ap­pa­rently ab­le to buck li­ke the pro­ver­bi­al bron­co, in­de­fi­ni­tely and wit­ho­ut co­ming) and wor­ked on his cock with her hands and her mo­uth, hard and fast. She kept on pum­ping whi­le he ca­me and was surp­ri­sed by the for­ce of his or­gasm, which shot se­men with eno­ugh for­ce to fly up the length of his body and hit him in the fa­ce.

  I think I’m in lo­ve, she told her­self and pres­sed her lips to his in a sticky kiss that she ho­ped wo­uld go on for ever.

  15 - Ellen and Snowball the Hamster

  Now they we­re cle­an and dres­sed aga­in (and Janet was right abo­ut the bath be­ing big eno­ugh for two) and sit­ting be­si­de each ot­her on the so­fa, a res­pec­tab­le dis­tan­ce bet­we­en them. James was re­ading Black Rock.

  S’n’J watc­hed him and won­de­red why she didn’t fe­el as if they we­re lo­vers. Sin­ce they had put the­ir clot­hes back on they se­emed to ha­ve tur­ned in­to two pe­op­le who ba­rely knew one anot­her.<
br />
  Which isn’t exactly surp­ri­sing, con­si­de­ring that’s exactly what you are, she in­for­med her­self. Ha­ving sex just ma­kes you two pe­op­le who had sex.

  But they wo­uld be­co­me pro­per lo­vers, if not­hing hap­pe­ned to pre­vent it, S’n’J knew that. It was what she wan­ted. James was swe­et and he’d gi­ven her mo­re ple­asu­re in half an ho­ur than Mar­tin had ma­na­ged in two ye­ars. He might be a bit yo­un­ger than her, and ‘only’ a ga­ra­ge mec­ha­nic, but ne­it­her of the­se things en­te­red the equ­ati­on as far as she was con­cer­ned. James was li­ke Snowy Dres­den: she wan­ted to know mo­re abo­ut both of them.

  And any­way, she as­ked her­self, what do you me­an ‘if not­hing hap­pens to pre­vent it? What are you ex­pec­ting?

  But that qu­es­ti­on didn’t re­al­ly ne­ed ans­we­ring. S’n’J might ha­ve be­en a lit­tle con­fu­sed sin­ce ar­ri­ving in Tin­ta­gel that mor­ning, but she wasn’t comp­le­tely stu­pid. James was sit­ting be­si­de her re­ading the story, which me­ant that it exis­ted, not only in her ima­gi­na­ti­on, but in re­al li­fe too. And the tro­ub­le, if any, was go­ing to be ca­used by Black Rock and its aut­hor.

  Unless all this was an hal­lu­ci­na­ti­on too, and she do­ub­ted that. If it was, it was a pretty go­od one. She’d gi­ve it full marks for con­tent and en­ter­ta­in­ment va­lue.

  The ot­hers we­re pretty go­od ones too tho­ugh, we­ren’t they? her Girl Gu­ide as­ked. But if she star­ted to con­si­der what that me­ant, she re­al­ly wo­uld go crazy. Her who­le li­fe co­uld turn out to ha­ve be­en not­hing mo­re than an ex­ten­ded dre­am.

  All she ne­eded to be su­re of was that James was re­al, and that Black Rock, the ma­nusc­ript, was al­so re­al. And she was su­re. On­ce James had of­fe­red an opi­ni­on on what was con­ta­ined wit­hin the pa­ges, she wo­uld know whet­her or not what she had re­ad was re­al.

  James’ lips mo­ved when he re­ad, but only - she le­ar­ned from crib­bing over his sho­ul­der - when he got to pas­sa­ges of spe­ech. S’n’J had se­en pe­op­le test the words of bo­oks with the­ir mo­uths be­fo­re, but they usu­al­ly re­ad the who­le thing that way. Se­e­ing so­me­one do it only when they re­ad spe­ech was qu­ite amu­sing and she war­med to James a lit­tle mo­re.

 

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