by Kerri Carr
“And we,” I said hearing the police sirens, “we are so busted.”
*****
I rolled him onto his back as the cops played their flashlights around us.
“Okay wolf man,” I said. “Unless you want to spend the night in jail do what I say.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Cool. Your name is Steve O’Malley. You live with me at five-oh-one Clemons Avenue. Repeat that.”
“Steve O’Malley. Five-oh-one Clemons Avenue.”
“Excellent,” I said straddling him.
I paused a brief moment. It was as if my thighs were gripping a living tree, he was that solid and yet he was also so warm and . . . endowed.
“What are you doing?”
“Making it real,” I said, “lover.”
“But—“
“Shut up.”
I started rocking and groaning while he lay wide-eyed and amazed. The cop’s lights danced about us. I shrieked.
“It’s okay,” a woman’s voice called out. “We’re the police. Just stay calm, it’s okay.”
“Ohh gawd,” I groaned covering my breasts.
“It’s okay,” she said. I heard her partner chuckle. “Just want to know what’s going on.”
“Isn’t it obvious,” I said.
“Yeah, but . . .”
“It’s the Beltane Fires,” I said. “We were just – just saying goodbye to spring and welcoming summer.”
“Those your candles back there?”
“Yes. Look officers. We haven’t committed any crime.”
They had us stand, took us away from each other and asked their questions. Then they switched and we were grilled again. Then they left us to huddle in the pre-dawn chill while they conferred. They gave me back my sundress and purse and asked where his clothes were.
“He came this way,” I said. “It’s—it’s how it works. He needs to be—“
“Yeah, it’s okay,” she said. “So here’s the deal . . .”
It turned out that we were trespassing on State property. The park closed at 10 pm. The cops made noises about public indecency but I argued that it was four in the morning and the public was restricted. They laughed. I felt that we were going to skate.
“So listen,” the woman said, “there are rumors about this place.”
“The werewolf?” I chuckled.
“Yeah.” she said. “Someone called in a disturbance in here. Said something about animals fighting. Big animals. You know anything about that?”
“Someone?” I said. “There was someone here? Watching?”
“A couple of teenagers looking for the werewolf. You two see or hear anything like that?”
“No,” I said. “But then we were – you know.”
“Right. Okay then. Go finish your ceremony at home.”
***
In Wisconsin you always carry an extra sweater, a blanket, a shovel and a bunch of rock salt in your car during the winter. I gave the wolf man the blanket and drove him back to my house. Neither of us said anything the whole drive. I led him to my kitchen where I cracked open a beer. I offered him one but he asked for water.
I got to check him out in real light. He was . . . attractive. His hair was dark brown and grizzled. He had a widow’s peak and long sideburns. His face was chiseled with sharp lines and yet he had such a soft and gentle look. His eyes were light green and piercing, but with an almost innocent air. He had a week’s worth of beard growth and he was built like a boxer.
“Okay wolf man,” I said nodding. “What’s your story?”
“You,” he said.
“What?”
“May I have another glass?”
I stood away. I took my can of mace from my purse. I nodded him toward the sink and he drank three more glasses.
“So,” I said as he breathed deep. “Why is your story me?”
“I am in your debt.”
I looked at him somewhat perplexed.
“I was enslaved,” he said. “That collar. It kept me from my human form, and you freed me. How did you know?”
“I guessed,” I said “A werewolf wearing a collar is a bit unusual.”
“So is a woman who believes in and seeks out a werewolf. It makes me wonder about your story.”
“I’m asking the questions.” I said. “So who enslaved you?”
“I cannot say.”
“You don’t know?”
“I cannot say,” he repeated. “I have been sworn.”
“To whom? To what?”
“I cannot—“
“Right,” I said, “I know, you cannot say. Can you at least tell me what you were doing haunting the Arboretum.”
“I was protecting.”
“Protecting?” I said. “Protecting who from what?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” he said, “I was a slave. The collar enslaved me. You broke that. I am in your debt.”
“Look.” I said.
“What matters now is that you saved my life, and now I owe you that life until you release me.”
“Is that some kind of werewolf code or something?”
“No. It’s my code. I believe in honor. I have been in this world long enough to see how vital that particular virtue truly is. So I am in your debt.”
I thought about that. My first thought was to release him then and there, trusting his own honor to help me. But I’m just not that kind of girl.
“Okay then,” I said, “what’s your name?”
“Donovan.”
“Okay Donovan, you’re in my debt. But first you could use a bath. We both could actually.”
I saw his face light up.
“Not together,” I said.
*****
After Donovan had bathed I dug out an old bathrobe that a former friend had left behind. Donovan zonked out on the couch while I luxuriated in a hot bath. Then I found my bed. In the morning I woke to the wonderful aroma of coffee and bacon.
That was so sweet.
A good breakfast of bacon and eggs, toast and coffee is a lovely thing. It’s pretty hard to mess up but I had known men who could. This guy wasn’t one of those.
“I’m beginning to like this indebted thing,” I said as we ate, “but we both know that it’s not going to last. Slavery is not my thing.”
“I am glad,” he said with a small smile, “but even a brief slavery would not be so bad. You are a very beautiful woman.”
I blushed a little and I thought a little. He was, if nothing else, fit and he did have such pretty eyes. I might have batted my own a little.
“Thank you,” I said, “but right now I could use your help.”
I explained about the children. I turned a little as I spoke and my robe parted just a bit; I’m not above using my body now and then. I asked if he knew anything and I got a stoic look.
“Right,” I said “It has something to do with your former slave master – but you can’t say.”
He stayed quiet.
“Silence is affirmation.” I said. “You know something.”
He silently ate his eggs, but all the while he had his green eyes on me.
“What would a werewolf want with--,”
But he shook his head and bit his toast.
“Okay,” I said, “so what would a werewolf’s slave master want with children?”
“Not children,” he said, “a child.”
“A special child,” I said, “something in its blood. Of course. Curiouser and curiouser.”
He gathered the plates and began doing the dishes.
If there was one thing that I had learned in my life it was that a man who would do the dishes on his own was worth something. I sipped my coffee as he made my kitchen sparkle. He was rare and he was mine.
“Tell me something,” I asked, “how was it that you were enslaved?”
“I was seduced,” he said.
“Seduced by who?”
“By whom,” he corrected.
“So,” I laughed, “b
y whom?”
“A woman.”
“Well that’s reassuring,” I said.
He turned and looked at me. I saw in his eyes such desperation and yet such hope. I knew that he had so much that he wanted to say and I also knew that he had so much that he couldn’t say. I also saw that his green eyes were drinking me in. That was when I knew that I had him. I smiled.
“Okay,” I said, “first thing is that we need to get you some clothes.”
I called my secretary, Brandy. Brandy’s a good friend. She understands my work as a reporter and she’s bailed me out a jail a few times and pulled me from some other scrapes. But this one was new. I asked her to drop everything and go shopping.
“Say what?” she said.
“Sweetie, it’s part of the story. Please.”
“You see today’s copy edit?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then I suggest that you do so.”
“Brandy—“
“Now.”
I went to my computer and logged onto the paper’s edit. The composition board had a pic of me next to my man all naked in the woods. Fortunately, it was censored. The headline was cute:
Exposé Exposer Exposed!
“You bastards,” I breathed.
“Hey, I’m just a flunky,” she chuckled, “so what gives? Is that really you?”
“Long story,” I said, “just do this for me.”
“I’m getting lunch for this one,” she said, “and I’m going to the Goodwill.”
I shut my phone and then checked messages. It was packed with things from the paper’s night shift saying “whassup?” and “that u” and “any comments?” and the like.
I went to find Donovan.
“I gotta go to work,” I said. “You be here when I get back?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Cool.”
When I got to the office I figured that Nick would be there waiting to dress me down. But the man was sly to the point of nasty. Right there in the entrance to the editorial room hung a huge glossy of the pic – without the censor stripes. I got whistles and cat-calls and applauds as I stared at it.
Then Nick yelled for me.
“What the hell?” I demanded as I stormed into his office.
“It’s news baby,” he chuckled, “any comments for the record?”
“You slimy bastard.”
“I believe that has already been established.”
“You’re going to go with that?”
“Look,” he said, “this is big. I got the police statements and I got—“
“That’s me!” I cried. “Are you going to destroy me like this for some quick sales?”
“It’s not destroying you” he said. “Eileen, with the other pics I got we’re gonna make you a celebrity. This is our Bat-Boy.”
“What other pics?”
He tossed three sheets on his desk and my heart stopped a moment. They were grainy and it was obvious that the photographer didn’t know how to use a camera at night, but they were clear enough- two animal-like creatures wrestling, one with its neck deep on the other’s.
“Where’d you get these?” I asked.
“Same high school kids,” he said.
“Kill ‘em,” I said. “They’re fake. I was there. I didn’t see any animals in combat.”
“Look,” he laughed, “we can take these pics and bleed them out for weeks. It’s a friggin’ gold-mine. And with you as a witness—“
“Nick no,” I said, “this is just some stupid stunt. It’ll turn out that Frat Boys did it. And when that comes out—“
“The Frat boys set you up with that guy?”
“That’s – that’s personal. The real story is—“
“I know,” he said flopping into his chair, “the real story is your disappearing kids. But there ain’t no story there. Disgruntled father snags ‘em and get’s ‘em back before the Feds enter the scene. Eileen, without a werewolf your story is just a milk carton.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay,” he said, “what do you got?”
“I got a live werewolf sleeping on my couch.”
He shook his head.
“Nick,” I said. “I found out that there is someone out there looking for the just-right kid.”
“And when that someone finds the kid?”
I looked at his smug face. I wanted to grab his ears and yell that there would be one less child. I wanted – but I didn’t.
“Kill the damned pics,” I said, “for now. I got a lead.”
“What lead?”
“A werewolf on my couch.”
He sighed. He leaned back in his chair and took up the photos.
“I got the rights,” he said, “for forty-eight hours. In forty-nine hours the kids can plaster these on Facebook or sell to the Globe. I do not like being upstaged.”
“Trust me on this,” I said, “please.”
“You got twenty-four hours. Then I start the presses.”
*****
I left the office and drove to the Arboretum. I wanted to check out the place in sunlight. I had to see if I could figure out what had lured Donovan there or what he was protecting. I walked the Mound Trail for a while, not sure what I was looking for. I doubt if I could track an elephant through, let alone a wolf. I guess that I was just trying to get a sense, a feeling or something.
And I did get a sense and a feeling and it was not good. The deeper I walked through the sparse pines the more it felt that something was off. Something just wasn’t right. If there were any signs of a child being held there those signs escaped me. Still I had a weird feeling.
I saw an elderly woman on the trail and so I stopped to chat. She was a birder and she was frustrated.
“I come here every spring,” she said, “looking for the Northern Waterthrush. They pause here by the lake on their way to Canada but I’ve seen neither beak nor feather.”
“Maybe they took a different route,” I said.
“Well that’s just it,” she said, “they’re all over the other lakes. Just not here. There are no birds here.”
She was right. I heard no chirping, no singing, not even a flutter of a wing. There were also no squirrels or raccoons or anything else in the woods. There was something unnatural in the air, and if anyone would know what was up Donovan would. I took Arboretum Drive to town and I got that weird feeling all the way to the beltline.
When I got home he was cleaning. The living-room had been vacuumed, the shelves dusted and he was washing the windows.
“Wolf-man,” I laughed, “is your alter-ego a maid?”
“No,” he said chuckling, “it’s hard for me to just sit still. Thank you for the clothes. Your friend Brandy was, um, curious.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I – I just thanked her. We didn’t chat”
“Cool,” I said.
“So,” he said shutting the window, “you are Eileen Morgan. I saw your mail. Sound’s Irish.”
“County Kerry. You?”
“County Cork,” he said, “neighbors.”
“Then let’s be neighborly,” I said with a grin.
I grabbed him by his tee-short and dragged him to the couch, slamming him down. I hated what I was going to do but I did it anyway. I had to know what he knew and that was going to take something.
I tore off my jacket and pulled away my camisole. I stood before him in a pretty, lacy baby-blue demi-cup. He gaped at me.
“How long,” I asked, “how long were you stuck as an animal?”
“Since winter,” he said, his eyes darting from mine to my breasts.
“That’s a long time without a woman.”
“Eileen . . .” he gasped.
“Chat later,” I smiled
Then he cried in delight as I fell to my knees before him. I had him out and in my mouth. He was already swelling and as I went down on him he grew into a rock. I was sucking him hard and fast. He groaned. He meshed his fingers in my h
air and began thrusting with me. He was oozing in no time. I toyed with his balls with my fingers as I swirled my tongue around his throbbing knob. He was gasping and I could feel him tense.
“Ohhh Gyyyyyyaaaaaaaaa!” he cried as I dove on him.
Being a shape-shifter has its advantages in some situations. I split my tongue so that it forked and the little viper muscles wrapped him as I sucked that rod for all it was worth. I got chills hearing him cry and groan. He was pulsing and so ready. I stroked the base of his huge cock with my hand while I concentrated on his knob with my mouth. He was throbbing. And then he wailed and exploded in my mouth. Burst after burst of the warm spunk splashed down my throat and I sucked and drank and swallowed and sucked some more until I sucked him dry. He seemed to collapse.
“Oh no you don’t,” I sneered.
I ripped off my skirt and panties and straddled him right there on the sofa impaling myself on his slimy tool. I love that position. I feel so full and so in command. And command I did. He had the stamina. He started doing me back. He had that silly smile that men so often get. He reached up and slid down the straps of my bra. He began to fondle and toy with my breasts.
He started with that delicate thing, licking and nibbling. There was no way I was going to take that. I rammed myself down on him hard, grabbed his hands and mashed them into my tits.
“Now you listen up,” I said, “you’re in me now and I ain’t no little pretty China-doll. You know what I am and you know what I want. I’m betting that you know how to fuck. So fuck me, wolf-man!”
He laughed out-loud and he did. He mauled me like an animal and he started to ram me hard. I squealed my delight and rammed right back. And then he really got into it.
I gasped and gazed at him. He twisted my nipples and I cried out in delight. He pulled me to him by my tits and kissed me hard and deep, all the while pounding me.
“You like that?” he grinned, “you like it hard? You like it rough?”
“Yessss,” I hissed, “ohhh yessssss!”
“I’ll show you rough.”
He pulled me off. I leered at him. He threw me to the floor and ordered me onto my hands and knees. I obeyed. Then he got behind me and shoved that slimy cock into my pussy so hard and fast and deep that I wailed out loud. His pelvis slammed my ass and my arms buckled. He grasped my thighs and rammed me. I wailed and clutched the rug. I was so alive and throbbing inside and I was sure he could feel me swell. I wallowed in it as he did me hard and called me the filthiest names.