Mr. Grey and the Spirit from the Sky

by A. J. Matthews

  *

  Claudia came over to him and wrapped her arms about his waist. She kissed the back of his neck and gave Laurel a withering look. Fury still burned in her heart, the menace she saw in Laurel's interest in Martin compounded by the evidence of the DVDs. His arm came around her waist and he held her tight. The sorrowful look he turned on Laurel showed more than words that the older woman was on a losing streak with her man.

  *

  Laurel looked away rather than face the younger woman's glare. "What can I do that's so worthwhile, Martin?" she asked. "All I can do is run a resort. I help a few thousand folk have a good time for a couple of weeks, but it does nothing for me anymore."

  "So find another job; surely there's something better out there for you?"

  "At my age?" She gave a snort of bitter laughter. "I don't think so."

  "Age equals experience."

  "Yeah, and you've got the age part down pat," Claudia put in, her eyes showing her temper was only in abeyance.

  "Easy, love." Martin clasped her hand; his grip was warm and strong and she clung to it. "Laurel knows the score now."

  In her peripheral vision she saw Claudia roll her eyes and turn away. For a moment she felt a tiny sense of victory over the young woman's youth and attitude.

  "Laurel, you must destroy these DVDs, and get Dave to remove the cameras from the cabins. I can sense nothing but negative energy coming from them. You've got to move on to better things, for your sake. If you don't, I'm afraid we'll have to take action. You understand that, don't you?"

  "I guess so. They were good for a time, but it's all getting kind of old, now."

  "Good." Martin drew the DVD from his pocket. "I'll start the ball rolling with this one." He flushed. "It's of me and Claudia," he muttered. Taking it out of the case he held it up so she could see the date. She nodded, and he took it between his strong hands and bent it out of shape. "There; that's out of commission, permanently. Claudia?"

  Claudia held out the remaining jewel cases, a look of stony determination on her face. Laurel looked from her to the cases. "I can't break them the way you did, Martin; I haven't got the strength. Can't you do it for me?"

  "No, you've got to do it, to show your good faith."

  She looked around the room, and saw the metal trash can. "I know a better way. Give them here."

  Fetching the trash can, she placed it on the magazine in the middle of the floor and dropped the DVDs into it, one at a time. When the last clanged into the bottom of the can, she got her cigarette lighter and carefully poured some of the fluid over them. Lighting a twist of paper torn from the magazine, she dropped it into the can.

  "There," she said as the flames rose hungrily. "You can see; I keep my word."

  "You have no backup disks?"

  "No; I'm not that stupid!" She watched the plastic disks melting in the cheerful yellow light of the fire. "Although I was—once."

  * * * *

  They returned to their cabin with a reek of smoke hanging about them and their clothing. From his memory of the camera angle on the DVD Martin was able to locate the device. It was hidden in a small hollow cut into the frame of the cabin wall, and the lens peered through a hole in the plasterboard. A small microphone nestled alongside it. He covered the hole over with a strip of sticking plaster.

  They undressed, showered, got into bed. "At least that's taken care of," Martin said, when they were settled.

  "Yeah." Claudia yawned. "Damn, but I've had enough excitement for one night."

  "Do you think Laurel will be okay?"

  "Huh!" When she snorted the feel of her body jerking against his was wonderful. "Frankly, my dear Martin, I don't give a damn!" She slapped him on the chest.

  "Ow! What was that for?" he protested.

  "That was for telling me to go easy on the slut!"

  "She was beaten, love! She knew it, and wasn't going to cause any more trouble." He held her close; she looked away, seeming far from mollified. "Just so you know, darling, I've never given her any kind of encouragement."

  "I do know." She turned over in his arms to face him, her eyes glittering in the faint light from the window. "You're just your normal, lovable, polite English self, Martin Grey. You love me, and I love you—and I'm going to make sure I'm the only woman who does!" She kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss with just a touch of tongue, and he felt her hair tickling his face as she drew back and stared down at him. "All those women who misinterpret your wonderful kind nature will be dealt with firmly! Now, go to sleep."

  "Okay, lover. G'night." He leaned across and kissed her.

  She flicked her tongue across his lips and smiled at him sleepily. "G'night, sleep tight."

  Claudia's warm body against his created an equally warm glow of fulfillment in Martin's mind. As the minutes ticked by he slipped deeper into sleep, his arm around her.

  A hard weight suddenly clamped onto his arm, pressing him to the bed and making it hard to breathe once he'd released the first gasp of shock. Eyes wide in the dark, struggling, he fought the weight, pushing his shoulders and arms back against Claudia and the yielding mattress.

  Claudia came awake with a start. "Wha…?"

  Martin's heart pounded in his chest, memories of an earlier case surfacing like bloated corpses in a pond as he struggled. At last he flung off the pressure—and heard stifled laughter coming from the floor by the bed.

  Roaring with anger he leaped out and trod on something which yelled with pain. Claudia screamed in panic, spilling out of bed in a tumble of limbs. Martin stooped on a dark shape outlined against the pale grey carpet, which laughed louder as it attempted to roll away from his clutching hands. He grabbed whatever clothing came to hand, pulled the figure onto its feet and punched it—hard.

  The figure grunted in pain and fell on its butt, but then the tipsy laughter returned. Dropping his hold, Martin fumbled for the switch on the bedside light and the room lit up.

  "Greg! What the hell do you think you're playing at?" Martin snarled, bending down to grab him by the scruff of the neck. The smell of alcohol was ripe in the air

  Claudia stood on the other side of the bed, wild-eyed and naked, her hair in disarray like an avenging fury. She held the bottle of water she always kept by the bed raised in her fist, ready to smash down on anyone who attacked her.

  "Hey! Hey!" Greg staggered upright and pulled free of his grip. He backed away towards the door on unsteady feet, his eyes wide as he stared at Claudia's nakedness. "I just wanted to spook the spook-busters! Oh, Jeez, man, the look on your faces!"

  "You little bastard!" Claudia snarled, her face flaring crimson. She dropped the bottle and snatched up the bed cover, draping it around herself hurriedly.

  Greg doubled up, hiccupping with laughter. Martin took a firm hold on his collar and dragged him to the door. Opening it wide, he helped Greg on his way by means of a firm kick on the backside. When he slammed the door, he could still hear Greg's laughter.

  "Damn!" he said, trembling with post-adrenal shock. "The little sod must have hidden in here while we were with Laurel." He helped her restore the bedcovers, and sat on the edge looking at her mournfully. Claudia took his hand. He could feel her shaking. "Honey, I never thought I'd say it, but I'm bloody glad we didn't make love tonight!"

  She began to chuckle, and when he joined in it turned to laughter. Helpless, they laughed from relief until the tears rolled down their cheeks. Finally, he wiped his eyes and smiled at her. "Whew! I feel better for that."

  "Me too." She stroked her fingertips over his cheek. "The night's still young, honey." Her lips twitched. "After that little scene, I think I could use some good lovin'…"

  * * * *

  She threw back the cover again, exposing herself to him. Drawing her leg up slowly, she parted her thighs to let him gaze at her sex. Martin's eyes seemed drawn to it like a magnet. With two fingers she stroked her pussy lips, feeling the growing wetness there as her body prepared itself for her man.

  He leaned over her
, his lips meeting hers, tongue flicking at her lips until she allowed it entrance. She closed her lips around it, sucking it into her mouth so she could twine and twist her own tongue around his. Martin twisted round upon the bed and, still kissing her deeply, his hands began to explore her body.

  They lay side by side, his hands wandering slowly over her skin, stroking her breasts, seeking out her hollows and tender places. She kissed him, small kisses full of tenderness and love, feeling his response, the hardness of his cock against her hip.

  "Damn, but I want to feel you inside me, Martin Grey."

  He smiled. "I want to be inside you too, my love."

  "Mm-hmm?" She thought over the options. "We could sixty-nine, or do what we did last time, or maybe…"

  "What?" His blue eyes sparkled in the half-light. "Have you something in mind?"

  She jerked her chin. "Kneel!"

  He obliged, sitting back on his heels, his cock sticking up at a jaunty angle.

  "Ooh, that I like!" she said, raking his perineum with her fingernails.

  He shuddered lightly under her touch and his cock gave a twitch. Stooping, she draped her hair on his thighs and, rolling his foreskin back with her fingers, she licked around the purple head as it emerged from its sheath, delighting in his clean, masculine smell. Martin stroked her hair, and she could feel his body tense and relax as she licked and sucked, licked and sucked, all around his head and up and down his shaft. She swept her breasts across his knees, aiming to stimulate him further with their touch, and she cupped and squeezed his balls, rolling them from side to side in time with the movement of her breasts.

  A taste of pre-cum made itself felt in her mouth, and she gorged herself on his cock, holding her breath and taking it as deep into her throat as she could, wetting it thoroughly with her saliva. Martin's breath came quicker, and he began to thrust slightly, seeking to bring himself off. The feel of her man's readiness for her made her pussy wet, and she judged the time was right.

  She disengaged, and knelt before him. "Okay, Martin, you're nearly wet enough now—and so am I!"

  Parting her thighs she straddled his knees, exposing her pussy to his adoring gaze. Sweeping her fingers across her pussy lips she wetted her fingers with her juice, and stroked and wiped it all over his shaft. She loved the feel of it under her fingertips, and she took her time in spreading the moisture all over.

  "There; now then…" Bringing her legs up, she sat on his knees and linked her ankles behind him. His hands toyed with her breasts as she clasped her hands behind his neck and straddled him. "You'll have to position yourself, darling," she instructed him, raising her hips and letting his cock slide over her pussy.

  The bulb of his cock touched her hole and she felt him hold it steady. Relaxing her muscles she began to slide down onto him, impaling herself on his lovely long, thick cock.

  "Ooh!" He grinned. "You're so tight."

  "And you're so big!" She gave him a long sultry look, took his hands and clasped them around her breasts before leaning all the way back. His cock moved inside her, giving rise to all kinds of strange and wonderful sensations. Her pussy felt hot and engorged. "Hold me by my waist, rock me back and forth and take it slowly," she said, her eyes half-closed. "Let's find our natural rhythm.”

  Martin did just that, taking her about the waist and drawing her onto his cock, and letting her slide away, using the slope of his legs. She squeezed her breasts with both hands, pinching the nipples until they were hard and throbbing, feeling the heat rise in her throat and breasts, feeling his hardness sliding in, and out, in, and out.

  Her pussy was directly under his gaze, and she slid a hand down over her ribs and belly until she felt her clit under her fingertips. "Watch me, Martin," she said, her voice thick and heavy as her passion rose.

  His gaze dropped to her pussy and she ran her fingers over her clit, letting him see everything. His cock felt so good inside. Giving herself up to the moment, she rocked gently back and forth on his lap, her ankles locked behind him to give leverage, impaling herself on him, feeling the hot urgent response of her body—and his.

  Then Martin was pulling her upright, the move creating yet more sensations inside her. His lips were upon hers; his warm, strong arms wrapped around her and held her close, her breasts squashing against his chest as he thrust up into her. He was panting in almost perfect time to her rapid breaths, and she bounced up and down, rubbing her tender clit against his groin as his cock rose and fell inside her.

  She came in an explosion of pounding blood and fireworks behind her eyes, and crushed him against her like a life preserver to ride out the waves of her orgasm. Martin jerked and shuddered once—twice—three times, and spent inside her in a copious rush.

  The lust subsided, their blood returned slowly to a more normal rhythm. He held her close, his breath hot against her neck as he murmured soothing endearments.

  * * * *

  Morning arrived. They had breakfast in the restaurant, the excellent food helping to restore their inner being. Neither Greg, Bruce nor Laurel were present. The other staff gave them sidelong glances and they caught the odd smile and significant wink.

  "Laurel was right about it being impossible to keep secrets around here," Martin said quietly.

  "She managed it for a few months, the stupid bitch." Claudia looked around, noting how the other diners avoided her eye. "There're a few people I recognize, even with their clothes on. I wonder what they'd have said if we'd shown them the DVDs?"

  "If they're like the ones I worked with that college year, I'd say they'd ask for copies!"

  She snorted with laughter. "Yeah, guess you're right. Martin, after all this business with Laurel and Greg last night, do you think we're losing sight of the investigation?"

  "We may've gone off track a wee bit, love, but once we get the matter of Greg's behavior sorted out, we can crack on with it."

  "I'm glad to hear it." She bit into her toast and looked around once more. "One way or another, I'll be glad to see the last of this place."

  * * * *

  Eventually, with two cups of good coffee inside them, they went to see Bruce. He wasn't in his office when they arrived; instead, Donna redirected them to his on-site residence, a loft-apartment in the upper storey of a converted barn behind the main building.

  It had the red-painted solid wooden construction of the Catskill region, resting on a base of dressed stone. A covered stairway had been installed on one end to give access to the loft apartment, and the lower half was given over to a double garage and utility space.

  Claudia looked the place over with a professional eye as they walked up the path toward it. "Oh! Very nice!" She cast a disparaging glance at Laurel's cabin, a plain white stone-and-timber chalet which stood not far away. "It's much better than that thing! Someone's used their wits to preserve the best parts of the old barn whilst modernizing the rest." Martin noticed a predatory gleam appear in her eye. "It's a shame it's tied to the resort. I could definitely sell a place like this if it came on the market."

  "It looks as if it was remodeled a few years ago. Bruce couldn't have designed it if the partnership only took the place earlier this year."

  "You're right. I'd like to get the name of the architect, though. If she or he worked in Indiana I'd like to know. This kind of work is worth looking out for."

  "I dare say Bruce would oblige if you ask him."

  They climbed the stairway and sounded the door buzzer. Through the glass of the door they saw Bruce was sprawled on a couch and talking on a cell phone to someone who, judging from his expression, was giving him a hard time. He waggled his eyebrows and gestured for them to come in. As they did so Martin glanced sidelong at Claudia, who winked and flicked her gaze at Bruce.

  The outside door gave directly onto the sitting room, which was paneled throughout in pale yellow pine. A kitchenette let off the main room to the left, and he caught a glimpse of a bedroom through a doorway to the right. The furnishings were modern, right down to the
modern artworks hung on the walls. Pendant lights hung from the hipped ceiling.

  "Okay, okay," Bruce said into the phone. "I'll see to it." He hung up and put the phone in his shirt pocket with a grunt of annoyance. "Sorry about that," he said with a shrug. "Ursula's got some problems at the New York end. She'll be arriving tomorrow night. What can I do for you folks?"

  "Greg," Martin said tersely.

  "Oh." Bruce leaned back in his chair and looked pensive. "I heard about that. Would it help if he apologized to you?"

  "It'd help," Claudia said icily.

  "It could have been bloody embarrassing, Bruce!" Martin snapped.

  "I've got to say, I'm disappointed in him." Bruce shook his head. "Drunk or not, he shouldn't have pulled a stunt like this."

  "I'm surprised too." Martin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he felt a slight ache settle in there. "He came across as a level-headed type. It just goes to show, you can't tell with some folks when they get a drink too many inside them."

  Bruce nodded gloomily. He took a small chromed walkie-talkie from his belt and clicked it on. "Greg? Where are you?"

  "I'm down at the generator, Bruce. Pete's fixing it."

  "Okay. See me in my apartment in ten minutes," Bruce said and looked at Martin. "I believe you've got something to say to Mr. Grey."

  Pause. "I'll be right there."

  Bruce put the radio back in the draw. "He's on his way." He drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch a few times. "So… What about you, Martin? How're you doing with the search?"

  With an effort Martin shook his thoughts free of Greg and focused on the case. "I think I have a lead."

  "I'm glad." Bruce continued to drum his fingers; he looked pensive. "Martin, I'm not entirely sure why you needed to book an airplane flight though. They're expensive."

  "It was worth it, I think. There's a place about fifteen miles from here called Canning's Vale. We needed to check it out, because it's where we believe Gerry Maguire landed for his fatal rendezvous with the gang. I'm pretty sure it's where the Scotch is hidden."