Mary Janice Davidson, Michele Bardsley, Chris Tanglen - Lighthearted Lust (Ellora's Cave)

by james

  “Yeah, actually,” she said, pushing it in his direction. Tim reached inside and removed a heart-shaped box of chocolates. It was at least twice the size of the one he’d given her. His stomach sank.

  “Wow, that’s…ample chocolate.”

  “I just had it lying around the house.”

  “With my name monogrammed on the box?”

  “It was no big deal. The ‘m’ actually looks more like an ‘n.’”

  “No, it’s great. Thank you.” He stared at the sorry-looking box of chocolates

  he’d given her. “Of course, that’s only the first part of your gift.” “Really? What’s the second part?” “It’s a secret,” Tim whispered, hoping she wouldn’t suspect that he didn’t

  have the faintest glimmer of a clue himself. Their second date and he’d already screwed up. Shit.

  * * * * *

  “Okay, I’ve got one,” said Tim. “Cannibal Campout.”

  “Fake.”

  “Real.”

  “No way.”

  Tim nodded. “Yep. 1988, shot on video, directed by Jon McBride. He also did

  Woodchipper Massacre.” “Here’s one. Fertilize the Blaspheming Bombshell.” “Real. 1990. Directed by Jeff Hathcock.” “How the hell did you know that?” Melody demanded. “It has Bo Hopkins in it.” “Oh.” “Maniac Nurses Find Ecstasy II.” “That’s gotta be real.” “Fake. They never made a sequel.” Melody chuckled. “Okay, fourteen to six. I graciously accept defeat. I just

  can’t compete with your vast knowledge of all things horrific.” “And as the winner, I pay for lunch…which was the second part of your gift, anyway.” Tim knew that was lame, truly lame, amazingly lame, outrageously

  lame, but he’d been unable to come up with anything else. “How sweet.” “Would you like to meet for dinner tonight?” he asked. “Of course.” Tim leaned over the table and kissed her. He was going to impress her with

  his romantic abilities at dinner. No matter what.

  * * * * *

  Tim sat at the desk, eighteen crumpled-up pieces of paper on the floor next to him. He wasn’t getting a whole lot of business-related work done, but Melody’s poem was turning out pretty well. Of course, he was using the definition of “pretty well” that meant “sucky to the core.”

  How did these poets do it? How did they create such beautiful, romantic images? How did they find words that rhymed with “Melody?” The only thing he could come up with was “felony,” which in addition to being a non-beautiful, non-romantic word, wasn’t even a real rhyme.

  He wasn’t going to give up, though! By the end of his working day, he would have a love poem for her, and it would be good!

  “Tim?” Peter pulled up a chair. “Could I talk to you?”

  “You’re disrupting my concentration.”

  “I realize that.”

  “At least help me out, then. What are some words that rhyme with heart?”

  “Tart, fart, K-Mart…”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “I know. And you desperately need help, bro. What I see before me is a thirty-five-year-old man who is neglecting his managerial duties to write a love poem to a woman he met only last night. This is a frightening thing for me to witness. This is not the Tim I know. This is Tim Neffster…Mid-Life Crisis Man!”

  “It’s not a mid-life crisis,” Tim insisted. “It’s love. I know how whacked-out it sounds, but I’m in love with her.”

  “Okay, look, I’m not even going to get into that. You’re in love with her. I’m happy for you. Name a couple of the kids after me. My real concern here is that you’re sitting back here writing a love poem during really busy work hours, and everybody knows it! It’s bad for keeping the troops in line!”

  “So I should go home?”

  “To be completely honest, I was thinking something more along the lines of dumping the poem idea and doing some actual work, but if that’s not gonna happen, then yes! Get the hell out of here!”

  There was no denying it, this was about the most unprofessional Tim had ever acted in his adult life. What was he thinking? It was okay to get all goofy over a woman, but he couldn’t let it intrude on business. He needed to go home.

  Of course, if he went home, then he would obviously want to give Melody a call and encourage them to get together. Which meant that his poem wouldn’t be done. Which meant that he wouldn’t have anything to prove his everlasting love. Which meant he should stay at work and write the poem.

  He furrowed his brow. Somewhere this line of logic was getting freaky.

  “I’ve got to do this. I mean, that’s why Diane left me. I’m not romantic enough. I buy wimpy candy. I’ve got to outdo her. I’ve got to be extravagant and creative…but not seem like I’m trying to show off.”

  “May I read your poem?” asked Peter.

  “No. It’s not suitable for human eyes yet.”

  “I didn’t think so. Here’s a suggestion. You inherited the Neffster Family Screech, so a serenade is out of the question, but why not hire some professionals to give a mini-concert? The guys who played here last night, they were good, and I think they did a couple of love songs.”

  “That’s a fantastic idea!” It was absolutely perfect. He’d call the band, get them set up outside Melody’s door, and then put on a musical performance in her honor when she stepped outside! Yes!

  He crumpled his latest draft of the poem and tossed it into the wastepaper basket. His problems were solved!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rebecca took another terrified step backward as she screamed with a terror reserved for sin-laden souls being carried down the River Styx. The Bay Area Butcher, the glint of death in his eyes, stepped forward, caressing the serrated stainless-steel blade of his hunting knife. Glancing over her shoulder, Rebecca saw that she had less than five feet of space left before the edge of the cliff. If she fell over the side, she would meet her eternal doom at the hands of a three-hundred-foot plummet onto some large, pointy rocks. Her chances of survival were minimal.

  The Butcher grinned, revealing rotten, blackened, mildly slimy teeth. “You shouldn’t never have wore pearls,” he snarled. “My mother wore pearls the night she tried to drown me!”

  With a shriek of primeval rage, the Butcher raised his knife and rushed at her. Rebecca knew she had less than three seconds to live.

  Two…

  One…

  Suddenly a figure leapt from a nearby tree, landing on the madman and bringing him to his knees with a loud “oooomph!” It was an unholy “oooomph,” one that reflected his wretched breech birth, his vile bratty childhood, his appalling gawky teenage years, and ultimately his grotesque serial-killing adulthood. Rebecca stopped counting the seconds until her untimely death in order to gaze upon her benefactor.

  He was strikingly handsome, more handsome than any man she’d ever seen, the kind of handsome that made her want to run her hands over his face to check for hidden plastic surgery scars. Muscular, shirtless, chest oiled…he was a hunk of man for the ages.

  “My name is Tim Neffster, café owner,” he said in his manly voice, standing up and dusting himself off. “Are you okay?”

  But before Rebecca could answer, the Butcher leapt to his feet, the knife still clutched in his bloodstained hand. “You will die as have so many others who share the first name of my dearly departed father,” he howled.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Tim replied, again using his manly voice.

  With another shriek, this one even more primeval-rage-filled than the last, the Butcher slashed at Tim with the knife. Tim knocked the knife out of his hand, punched the Butcher ninety-seven times in the face in rapid succession, and then

  picked him up with his awesomely muscular arms and flung him over the side of the cliff.

  “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” said the Butcher.

  “What a hero you are!” exclaimed Rebecca, throwing her arms around him. “I shall be true to you forever!”

  “That’s a good reaso
n to kiss,” said Tim.

  “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!” the Butcher continued to say.

  They kissed, passionately.

  “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!” the Butcher repeated, until his scream was cut off by a thump as he hit the rocks and more or less died.

  Rebecca and Tim continued kissing, and all was right with the world.

  Melody stretched and yawned as she printed out the story. She only had about fifteen minutes before Tim was supposed to arrive, so she had to hurry with the last-minute touch-ups to get ready for her big evening. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he read the story. She was going to give it to him under the pretense of wanting his opinion on her latest chapter. But when he reached his surprise cameo appearance…it was going to be great!

  * * * * *

  Tim sat in the parking lot, tapping his fingertips against the steering wheel, checking his watch approximately every half-second. Where were they? The band was supposed to have been here forty-five minutes ago. They weren’t going to have any time to prepare.

  Oh well. They were only going to perform one song, and it wasn’t like they’d be setting up any complicated equipment. Their road manager (who was also their publicity department and drummer) assured him that they could do a minimalist setup in two minutes, so there was no reason to get too worried. The worst they could do was completely suck.

  Finally a white van pulled up alongside him. Tim got out of his car as the driver, a longhaired folk singer type, rolled down his window.

  “Hi, you guys ready?”

  “Yep,” said the driver.

  “Okay, just follow me to her house. I’ll ask for a quick tour, and while I’m inside you guys get set up as fast as you can. Start singing as soon as we come back out. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Tim started to turn back toward his car, and then thought of something important. “Can I hear the song?”

  “Oh, sure,” nodded the driver. “You wanted ‘Gumdrops and Lollipops,’ right?”

  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  The driver put his head back and began to wail in something bearing only the faintest similarity to a singing voice.

  “When you came into this world

  There was a glorious event

  A shower of gumdrops and lollipops

  Fell to earth, heaven sent.”

  “Oh, dear God,” whimpered Tim, amazed that his ears hadn’t jumped off his head in a suicide attempt. “Please tell me that you’re not the lead singer.”

  “Naw, man. Bass.”

  “That’s good. Please never sing again. All right, let’s get moving.”

  * * * * *

  Melody answered the door, looking unsurprisingly gorgeous, and gave Tim a quick kiss. “Death Weasels With Gonorrhea.”

  “Fake.”

  “Correct, though it may be my next book. Shall we head off?”

  “Could I have a quick tour?” asked Tim. “I’ve always wanted to see how a horror writer lives.”

  “If we take time for sex, we’ll miss our reservation.”

  “No, no, I just want to see your house,” Tim insisted.

  Melody took him from room to room, with Tim oohing and aahing and eehing in all the right places, until they reached her office. “Wow,” exclaimed Tim, looking at all the framed book covers. “Are these all the novels you’ve published?”

  “All but one.” Melody picked up some pages off her printer. “My first publisher sent me a cover proof that underwent a molecular breakdown upon contact with sunlight. It was a vampire book, but I’m pretty sure that was a coincidence.”

  “These are great! Seriously. Do you have any copies of your books I could borrow?”

  Melody opened the door to a large closet that was filled to ninety-eight percent capacity with hundreds of copies of her books. “Help yourself.”

  Suddenly there was a loud crash from outside sounding suspiciously like a pair of cymbals being dropped by a very stupid band member. Melody set the pages down and peeked out the window.

  “What on earth—?” She hurried downstairs to the front door. Tim followed her, hoping they’d be ready. They had to be ready. He really needed to impress her. Melody threw open the front door. The four band members waved

  enthusiastically. “Happy serenade, Melody!” shouted the extremely hairy lead singer. Melody gave Tim a look of surprise. He grinned at her, and she returned her

  attention to the band, thrilled. “When you came into this world There was a glorious event A shower of gumdrops and lollipops Fell to earth, heaven-sent.” His voice wasn’t sensational, but it was more than good enough. Melody put

  her arm around Tim and squeezed him tightly. “Gumdrops and lollipops! Gumdrops and lollipops!” sang the rest of the

  band. “The candy dropped from the skies Sugar sweetness here and there Children shouted their delight As happiness reigned everywhere.”

  Now Tim was getting worried. This song was a little cornier than he’d expected. What if Melody thought he was some sappy, maudlin loser?

  “A gumdrop struck Father Tom He cried out in massive pain A lollipop hit Betty Sue And ripped right through her brain. Gumdrops and lollipops! Blood-soaked gumdrops and lollipops! The treats fell, dealing death Leaving corpses in their wake This nightmare made it very clear Your birth was a mistake.” “Bitch!” added the rest of the band. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” shouted Tim, rushing toward the band. He grabbed

  the lead singer’s guitar before he could play another note. “What the hell was that?” “‘Gumdrops and Lollipops,’ dude.”

  “I didn’t know it was a bloodbath ballad! I mean, that’s fine, she’s a horror writer and all, but you weren’t supposed to be saying her birth was a mistake!”

  “Oh, you mean you like her?” asked the lead singer.

  “Yes!”

  “Bummer. I’d start groveling if I were you, dude.”

  “Just pack up and go!”

  “We’ll knock a couple bucks off the bill for the misunderstanding,” the lead singer informed him. A simultaneous snort of laughter from the other members indicated that no such thing would happen.

  Tim returned to the doorway. He gave Melody a sheepish smile. “Uh, obviously that wasn’t quite the song I expected.”

  Melody nodded her understanding. “I was enjoying it until the backup singers called me a bitch.”

  “I’m really sorry.” Then a wild, crazy idea occurred to him. “You know what, though, maybe this serenade can be salvaged.”

  He stepped out onto the lawn and took a deep breath. He raised his arms toward Melody, and concentrated on feeling the music deep within his soul.

  Then he exhaled and walked back to her.

  “Bad idea. Let’s go get food.”

  * * * * *

  The meal had been absolutely delicious, and afterward they’d gone to a park. They sat on the grass, staring up at the stars on this beautiful moonlit night.

  “Everything looks just perfect,” said Melody, quietly so as not to disturb the tranquil mood.

  “Yes, it does.”

  They rolled onto their sides and gazed into each other’s eyes.

  “I know we’ve just met, but I feel like I can tell you anything. You’re so wonderful.”

  “You’re the wonderful one,” Tim corrected.

  They leaned toward each other and kissed tenderly.

  Melody gave him a mischievous grin. “I don’t think anybody is around.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “That gives me a naughty idea. How about we…oh, wait, here comes some guy walking his dog.”

  They got up and walked around the park for a few minutes, seeking a location with sufficient privacy, and finally found a spot behind some thick bushes. Melody took Tim’s hand and pulled him to the ground.

  They made out like horny teenagers for a while, her legs wrapped around him. Some leaves occasionally rustled and Melody let out a few unintentional mo
ans, but she was pretty sure that nobody heard them. Getting busted for public sexual activity would be extremely embarrassing, although the publicity might very well boost her writing career.

  Tim unbuttoned her blouse and she pulled her bra down, exposing her breasts. Melody had never had sex outdoors, or in any kind of public area if you excluded a brief fondling in a movie theatre, and her entire body tingled with the excitement of being ever so bad. Tim raised his mouth to her breasts and sucked each nipple in turn. She hovered over him for a few moments, letting him pleasure her, and then slid down to unzip his pants.

  The sound of the zipper seemed to echo throughout the park as if to say, “Hey, there are people getting ready to fuck over here!”

  She unbuttoned his pants and gently tugged them down just below crotch level. Then she reached into the easy-access slit in his boxer shorts and took out his already-erect penis. She slid down a bit further and gave the head of his cock a very generous kiss. “It likes the fresh air.”

  Melody allowed his cock a moment to enjoy the fresh air, and then engulfed it in her mouth. So now if they got busted, at least nobody would be able to see her face. Tim let out a soft moan like…well, like somebody receiving a blowjob.

  She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She’d gone from fucking nineteen-year-olds to giving oral satisfaction in a public park. Clearly there’d been a hellcat inside her waiting to claw its way out all of these years.

  Tim reached down and ran his hand through her hair. “You do that so great…”

  Melody didn’t acknowledge his compliment since her mouth was full.

  She kept sucking on him, counting on Tim to be alert enough to their surroundings to warn her if any potential spectators arrived. The way he was moaning, she suspected that he might not be devoting all of his attention to his watchman duties, but she’d just have to deal with it.

  Tim’s moans were growing a bit too loud for comfort, so she pulled away, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and unbuttoned her jeans. “My turn, sweetie.”

  Unfortunately, her anatomy wasn’t as easily exposed as Tim’s, so she had to tug and wiggle until she could pull her jeans and panties all the way down to her ankles. She lay on the ground, spread her legs, and hoped that no ants crawled on her butt.