by Lee Boschen
His lips left a trail of fire across her face, pressing gently against her eyes, brushing her lips, trailing down her throat to the deep valley between her breasts, stopping at the cloth of her ruffled blouse. He raised a hand to fumble for buttons, but...
"It unzips in back, darling, and there's a little hook and eye fastener at the top. You're experienced with those, I recall."
She sat up, freeing the arm he had been using to cradle her to his chest. He put both arms around her, running his fingers up her back till he found the little hook. She put her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him.
"Help a lot if we had some decent light in here,” he muttered.
"You're not here to look,” she said. She was shivering at his touch, the hot tingling flooding all through her as he tried to feel his way to open the hook. “For Heaven's sake, Richard, you're so slow. Just grab each side of the zipper and tear the thing open."
"Patience, my darling, am I a savage to tear your clothes off you? And such a lovely blouse."
"I can buy another blouse,” she hissed.
The little hook and eye surrendered finally, the zipper slid down docilely, and her blouse dropped suddenly to her waist.
He leaned forward and touched his lips lightly to hers. “You were saying something about slow?” He helped her pull her arms from the long sleeves, then, leaning back, he murmured, “About that bra..."
"It unhooks in front,” she said. “Here, I'll do it."
He caught her hands. “My job,” he said.
This little hooks were no more cooperative than the other one and when he had finally gotten it free she felt as if she were molten inside. The bra popped open, spilling her full breasts into his hands.
"Oh.” Quick as a flash she crossed her arms over her breasts, under his hands, her eyes round as saucers as she stared at him. She felt the temperature inside her go up another full notch.
His kisses moved down her throat, paused, his tongue caressing the place where her pulse raced, drifted to her shoulders, down into the valley of her cleavage. He lifted an unresisting arm away from her breast and replaced it with his hand, cupping her proud beauty as his lips descended on a nipple that ached for his mouth.
She gasped at the fiery thrill that flashed down to the soft, warm place between her legs. Her hand dropped away and his tongue curled lovingly around her other nipple. “Oh,” she quavered, “Ooh."
He drew back and gazed at the proud globes cupped in his hands. She sat erect, her shoulders back now, her mind a melange of modesty and pride and need so great that she groaned. “Yes. Oh, yes."
"What a magnificent woman you are,” Richard whispered. He lowered his mouth and once again fire rocketed from her nipples to deep in her belly.
Quite without her willing it, her hips began to move suggestively, and as if that had been a signal, his hands began to roam, lightly, like feathers flicking against her skin. Across her chest, up and down her rib cage—she thought she would be ticklish there but it was too exciting. She found herself tensing in anticipation when his hands began to explore the waistband of her skirt.
"Oh, hell,” he said, “how do we get this off?"
"I'll do it,” she said. She lifted her hips and reached under to unfasten the hook at the waistband. A quick unzipping and she pushed her skirt down to her ankles where she kicked it off. “I didn't think I could stand it while you undid me,” she said.
Unperturbed, he caressed the long, silken line from her knees, up her shapely thighs and around the mind-melting curve of her hips, then down across the soft, gentle rise of her abdomen. Her muscles quivered frantically at his touch. His hand drifted down to the patch of tight, dark curls on her mound.
He paused. “I thought ladies always wore pants."
She was drawing her breath through her mouth, as though the air in the room had grown thin. “They make lines under that skirt."
"Ah-h."
"I didn't think you'd mind."
"Oh, no,” he whispered.
His hand moved lower and he touched the moist fold between her thighs, and everything that had gone before was mere prologue. With a soft sigh she lay back across his lap, her legs parting in sweet offering. When his finger entered, she gasped, her muscles clamping him.
His finger began to move, and a warm heaviness began to grow between her legs.
"Oh, Richard,” she moaned. She felt as though she were burning up. “Yes. Oh, yes,” she hissed. Deep inside her she felt the first faint flutter, sweet and soft, the harbinger of the storm to come.
"Oh,” she breathed. “Oh. Oh."
She felt weak, without a will of her own. Her hands fell open, her arms dropping to her sides as her body prepared for the tempest. Her head rolled slowly to one side, her half-closed eyes unseeing as her body focused on the wonder blossoming inside her.
Richard looked down at her, fascinated by what was happening to her, and he leaned down to caress her nipple with his tongue. At his touch the storm broke over her. She cried out sharply, her back arching, her hips rising in a powerful convulsion. A groan accompanied another convulsive thrust. Her face was set in a mask of intense concentration as she writhed and shuddered, her only sound a soft mewing as she strained against his hand. Gradually her pulsing spasms diminished until at last she lay spent and gasping across his lap, her eyes closed, her face peaceful.
It took her a while to drift down from her rapture, but finally she opened her eyes. “So that's what it's all about,” she whispered.
His gaze was soft, his expression tender as he looked at her. “That's part of it,” he said. “I have this feeling that for us this is only the beginning."
"What about you,” she asked.
"Ladies first, sweetheart” he said. “Don't you worry, I'll catch up. If you'll just let me slide out from under—"
"Mom?” Coleen's voice sounded from around the bend of the stairs.
"Omigod,” Leslie gasped. She reached for her blouse and began struggling into it. Richard heard a seam give way as she pulled her skirt on. “Yes, honey,” Leslie called out.
Sighing, Richard walked to the foot of the stairs, calling up to Coleen. “Something wrong?"
"Is Mom okay?"
Leslie appeared at Richard's side, smiling at him as she turned her back for him to zip her blouse. “I'm fine, darling,” she called out. “Richard and I were ... talking.” The pause was almost imperceptible.
"In the dark?"
Leslie's laugh was soft as she looked at Richard. “We were pretending that we had a fire in a fireplace. Are you all right, honey?"
"I just wanted to be sure you're all right, Mom, but you weren't in your room."
Leslie's voice was a soft murmur. “She's probably been thinking about Alex shooting at us and she needs reassuring.” She called out, “I'll come up, honey, and you can see for yourself that I'm fine."
Richard looked at Leslie, his shoulders sagging in dismay.
"I'm sorry,” she whispered.
Richard threw his hands into the air. “Time for a cold shower,” he muttered.
"Mom?"
"Coming, honey.” Leslie gave Richard a fierce kiss. “My God,” she whispered in his ear, “the way I behaved, I feel like an absolute hussy.” Stars shone in her eyes. “Your very own tart.” Her face flamed. “Oh, I want you."
Seeing the stars, Richard grew a slow grin. “I'll remind you,” he said, “in case you forget."
Chapter Ten
The call came next morning. Richard was poring over the Indianapolis Star-News, looking for word of his attack. Leslie was on the phone as she had been ever since they'd returned from taking Coleen to school, soothing clients who were unhappy about her taking “time off to handle some personal business."
Hanging up finally, she told Richard, “Honestly, you'd think I didn't have any right to have personal business."
"I wonder what they'd think if you told them what kind of personal business,” he said absently. Then he looked up from the paper, “Hey
, I think it's nice, being someone's personal business.” He thought about that for a moment. “At least, if it's the right someone.” He shook the pages of the paper. “Nothing in here about some unknown guy turning up in a ditch in Boone county."
The phone rang under Leslie's hand. She rolled her eyes. “More grief,” she said. “No one ever calls to say something nice.” She put the phone to her ear.
"You were lucky, whore, I missed you last time.” The voice was soft, slithery, scarcely more than a whisper. But she recognized the speaker, and she gulped as felt her mouth dry. The voice continued, “Better tell your lover good-bye now, while you still can."
"Oh, hi, Alex.” Her heart hammered with tension now that the moment of confrontation was here. Leslie surprised herself that her voice was so cool, almost casual. “Say, why don't you tell him good-bye yourself, he's right here beside me in bed.” Her palms clammy with sudden perspiration, Leslie put the phone in Richard's hand.
Richard's eyebrows shot up at her last words. He took the phone and, not giving Alex a chance to speak, started baiting him with his first words. “What a great sense of timing you've got, Wright. Just let us try to ... man, I can't believe how stupid you are to let a sex machine like Leslie get away. My God, what she doesn't know about pleasuring a man. All she ever needed was a real man, but I guess you wouldn't know about that, huh."
Alex's voice was harsh, grating. “You know what's going to happen to—"
"Oh, yeah, she mentioned what a real terror you are.” He chuckled. “A lousy shot, though. She did a lot better, eh? She says you like terrorizing women. Women. I guess that says a lot right there, doesn't it, you wimpy bastard. Ha, ha, up yours, Wright, I'm the one—"
"You're nothing.” Alex's voice rose, became strident. “You're dead, man. Her first, so you can see, then you. I'm—"
Richard hooted with laughter. “You're the one who's nothing. You big, bad man.” Another chuckle, deep in his chest. “You've been lucky, so you think you're hard. Too bad, Wright, I've got your woman now and you're out.” He hung up, cutting off Alex's shout in mid sentence. He licked dry lips. “Now we wait."
He paused, then, after a moment, “I hope you know I only said those things to get him hot. But after you said what you said to him, I couldn't resist."
She nodded. “I know. I was thinking about that.” Her face reddened. “I really don't know how to pleasure a man, you know."
"Aw, come on, Leslie.” His eyebrows rose. “You're kidding, right? Everything about you pleasures me. The way you walk—I can't believe how graceful you are. The way you winkle at me. The way your hair swirls when you turn your head. The color of your eyes. The shape of your mouth. Your courage. Oh, yes, lady, your courage. And your strength. Yes, indeed, you pleasure me. Everything about you pleasures me."
Leslie knew the glow she felt at his words must be showing. She took a couple of deep breaths to give her heart a chance to settle down.
Her little laugh was almost a giggle. “Thank you."
He gazed intently at her. “I meant it, Leslie, every word."
She nodded. “I believe you. Thank you.” Silent for a moment, she finally asked, “Uh, going back a minute ... winkle?"
"Yeah, you sort of wrinkle your nose at me and wink. I don't know what else to call it."
"I do that? Really?"
"Yes."
Another moment of silence. “When you laughed at Alex—how did you manage to do that? It sounded almost real."
"You don't think it was?"
"You think Alex is funny?"
"That doesn't matter. He has to believe that's what I think. From what you've been telling
me—"
"Yes. Yes, he's probably raging ... ‘you big, bad man.’ How did you ever come up with that? It actually sounded as though you were making fun of him. Richard, he is no joke."
"And now he's dying to prove it to me. And he knows where to find me. He'll be here, Leslie. Here, where he can have the accident instead of us. We don't leave here. We'll start sleeping in shifts, so that one of us is always awake. I'm almost certain that he'll come at night, so one of us has got to be ready to greet him."
She began to fidget. “We have an ally he may not think about."
"Oh?"
"Miko."
He sucked in a breath between his teeth. “I don't know about that. After the other night, he'll not be forgetting Miko."
* * * *
That afternoon Coleen had the first encounter. The shiny new car pulled alongside the playground at Lebanon elementary as she waited for Richard and Leslie to pick her up. “Come on, Coleen,” the driver said, “get in and I'll give you a lift home."
"No, thanks. Mom will be looking for me on the bus."
The driver smiled. “You're a wise girl to refuse rides from strangers. But I'm no stranger. I'm an old friend of your family. I knew your mother before you were ever born. She sent me to get you. She wants you to meet your father after all these years."
Coleen stared. “My father?"
"Yes, he's finally home, and he wants to see you very much?
Her father. Coleen took a step toward the car. Stopped. “Why didn't he come with you?
The man in the car sighed. “He's not well, Coleen. He's only just out of the hospital. Come on, get in and let's both go see your dad. We can surprise them before the school bus gets there."
Coleen took another step toward the car. Such a good-looking man ... Coleen wavered. Finally, she shook her head. “No, thanks. I promised mom I wouldn't get into a car with a stranger. You know how she is about keeping promises. Tell my father I'll see him when I get home."
The driver, a husky man wearing a billed cap and dark glasses, got out and came around to the passenger's side of the car, opening the door. He sounded disgusted. “Enough is enough. Get in the car, kid. I don't want to catch an earful from your mother when I show up without you. Get in the car."
Coleen began to feel frightened. “No."
She was surprised when the man ran toward her, grabbed her by an arm, and started dragging her toward the car. “Little bitch,” he said. “Just like your mother."
Coleen fought him, her books scattering onto the playground, screaming at the top of her voice, again and again. A couple of teachers and some other parents, there to pick up children, began running toward where Coleen was struggling to free herself. Looking around, the man decided to run while he still could. He leaned down to speak to Coleen, his voice a harsh whisper, “You whore's brat, I'll get you soon enough. You and your mother both. And the guy she's playing daddy with.” Then he slapped her, a hard blow that whirled her around and knocked her down. Jumping into the car, he drove away in a smoking screech of tires. Coleen lay stunned on the playground.
It was an hour before the police let them leave to take Coleen home. Leslie had finally come downstairs from soothing Coleen, and had begun pacing angrily up and down the living room.
"She's all right now?” Richard asked.
Leslie replied hotly. “If you don't count being slapped silly and scared half to death, yes, she's all right."
"I wonder, do you think he really wanted her to go along with him, or did he only want her to deliver a message to you?"
Leslie stopped pacing. Her face paled. “A message? Oh, God."
"Yeah, his way of giving us a heads up. Think about it. He could have punched her out, thrown her in the car, and she'd have been gone. Like he's gone, without anyone to identify him. He wants you to believe that he was after her. But maybe he wasn't. Not this time. He wanted her to take us a message.” Richard pulled a long face. “He's setting us up to dangle like puppets, twitching every time he pulls the strings. You, the whore mother. And me,” he added sourly, “the guy you're playing daddy with."
He gnawed for a bit on his lower lip. “I want to see Coleen."
"I don't think that's a good idea. She's had enough trouble today."
"I want to see her alone. You can listen outside the door i
f you want."
"Why, Richard?"
"Now, when she needs someone, I want to start building bridges between us."
Leslie studied him pensively for a moment, then sighed deeply. “Yes. You're right. Please be careful."
Richard tapped on the door and opened it just enough to peer in. “Hi, Coleen, may I come in,” he asked.
"Sure."
He went in, leaving the door open. “Has anybody told you yet that you did it just right today?"
Coleen shook her head. “No."
"You did, and I'm glad."
"Yeah. Me too."
"Were you scared?"
"...yes."
"Still?"
"A little."
Richard nodded approvingly. “Good."
"Being scared is good?"
Richard was serious, and he wanted it to show. “Do you know why people get scared?"
"Well..."
"It's something nature built into us to help us stay out of trouble. If it wasn't for being scared once in a while, we'd do all sorts of foolish things and nobody would ever get old enough to vote."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"Well..."
"Of course, you can get too scared, jumping at your own shadow, afraid to go out in the world. Are you going to have a problem like that, do you think?"
Coleen paused, reflecting. “No."
"Good. I didn't think so either. You don't strike me as the type. I'm proud to know you, Coleen. Maybe I can look in again later. Okay?"
"Sure.” Coleen grinned, wincing at the pain in her face. “Bring mom with you. I think she thinks I'm scareder than I am.” She looked seriously at Richard. “Mom likes you, you know. She told me so the other night."
Richard grinned. “Now there's good news."
* * * *
The gruesome thing swung gently in the light early morning breeze. It wasn't much to look at, just a doll dressed in a neat gray pin stripe suit. Like Leslie's. Its blue eyes had been painted golden, like hers, and the doll's brassy blonde hair dyed brown. Like hers.
The doll was hanging upside down, suspended from the roof of the porch by a cord around one leg. Its throat had been sawed open with a single-edged razor blade, and the blade, taken from a package of replacement blades, was still in the cut. Red paint had been dripped onto the open wound.