The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 10

by Maxim Jakubowski

  “You don’t remember a flash of blue light?”

  “No. But … hey, now that you mention it, I remember snatches of conversation between the monsignor and Jacoby.”

  “Captain Jacoby.”

  “Yeah, something about a flash of blue. What … what does it mean?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe we’ll find out in Oriskany.”

  What did Oriskany have to do with her? She drew her knees under her chin and clasped her arms around her legs. “I never saw Anita again. I don’t know what happened to her.”

  He said nothing.

  She had fallen asleep almost ninety miles back, but now she stirred.

  “Hey, can we pull over? My bladder’s getting ready to burst.”

  She said it just as he pulled into a roadside hotel.

  “Thank God! A real shower and a clean bed. That cabin made my skin crawl. Two nights in that dump … made me afraid I’d pick up some mold infection, or something.”

  “Wasn’t it a hole?” he agreed.

  It was almost 2 a.m. The night clerk had been dozing and didn’t pay much attention to them as he checked them in. He handed them a key and mumbled something about a complimentary breakfast.

  The room was standard, two beds, air conditioned. She began to peel off her clothes, then stopped, cast him a look, and said, “Ooops.”

  “Take your shower. I can wait,” he said.

  She nodded, gathered her things and stepped into the bathroom. A few moments later he heard the spray of water and a heartfelt moan of pleasure. He smiled, and then retrieved a document from a valise.

  The document was stamped: POR OCULES TUAS SOLUM.

  “For your eyes only. Well, no shit.”

  He frowned as he read the document, then muttered, “Fuck them.”

  A squeal followed by giggles drew his eyes away from the paper. He slipped it back into the valise and shoved the valise into his bag.

  She emerged from the bathroom with an oversized towel wrapped around her. She shivered in the air-conditioned room and pulled it even more tightly.

  “Pick your flop,” he said and gestured toward the beds. “I’ll take a shower while you get dressed for bed … that is, if you do get dressed for bed.”

  She smirked and grabbed her bag, plopping down on the bed closest to the door.

  Later, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a large towel around his waist. Its mate was big enough to mostly cover the girl, but not him. He turned the light off before he emerged and made his way to the far bed. She hadn’t drawn the curtains and moonlight filled the room, so he could see her form under the bedclothes. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep.

  But he sensed her eyes on him as he tossed away the towel and then slid naked beneath the sheets. He curled up with his back toward her.

  “Locan?”

  “Hmm? I thought you were asleep.”

  “Can’t … too much going on in my head.”

  “Better try.”

  “Do you believe in God?”

  “Oh, brother.”

  “Oh, humor me a little, will you?”

  “Do you?”

  She was silent for a long time, then, “I used to. Then I didn’t; now I’m not so sure. The things I’ve seen since …”

  “Since being drafted into the Palatinae? You couldn’t have seen that much yet.”

  “The cane devil. Jesus! How about that?”

  “Supernatural creature? Is that how you figure it?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “So, you figure if there are evil, supernatural monsters in the world, they must have a counterpart – God and his angels and whatever, right? Well, the cane devil is probably a perfectly natural species. It scares the hell out of us because of the legends that have grown up around it. It’s likely been around as long as we have … mankind that is. Everything we call supernatural is probably just something natural that science hasn’t figured out yet.”

  “Then what about vampires?”

  “What about them?”

  “How do you explain them?”

  “Diseased. They have some malady that makes them crave blood. Just like a diabetic can’t make his own insulin, he has to get it by other means. They’re pretty pathetic, really, worse than junkies.”

  “So, there are no true vampires?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But …”

  “Some, the decent sorts, just want to live quiet lives and be left alone. They find ways to keep a low profile.”

  “Decent sorts?”

  “Sure, they can’t help being what they are, no more than we can …”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Go to sleep.”

  He listened as her feathery breaths became deeper and regular. He got up and retrieved a small penlight from his bag, then approached her bed, bending over her and straining to hear. Satisfied she was fast asleep he gingerly rolled the bedclothes back. She was lying on her stomach, clad in an oversized T-shirt that had bunched up just below her buttocks. His fingers slid beneath the fabric; delicately he lifted the shirt higher, over her round, moonlit globes, then over her hips exposing the small of her back above her tailbone.

  He directed the beam to the place flanked by the dimples of Venus.

  “Hmm.” He rolled the garment back down and reached for the bedclothes. In an instant she came awake and lifted off the bed like a rocket, standing on the bed and bracing her back against the wall.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

  “Checking out your back.”

  “You mean my ass!”

  “I mean your back. Your ass, well, as lovely as it is, it was not my point of interest.”

  “Jesus, Locan, if you wanted to … I mean, you could have asked.”

  “To see your back?”

  “No! I mean you and me … naked.”

  “Sit down.”

  She didn’t move.

  “You don’t wear panties to bed, eh?”

  She dropped into a sit and bunched her T-shirt at her crotch.

  “You have a mark on your back, just above your tailbone.”

  “Yeah, I have a birthmark, so what?”

  “A blue disk; a perfect circle, no irregularities.”

  “So?”

  “Very unusual.”

  “Yeah, and again, so?”

  “I’ll tell you in the morning.”

  “No … they told you something about me, didn’t they? I knew it; I knew something was up when they partnered me with you out of the blue.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry … this from a guy who put a bullet through two people’s brains like he was scratching an itch.”

  “Fair enough. So, let me say this: I won’t hurt you, Racey. Never.”

  “Then tell me what’s going on?”

  “Later, after we’ve slept.”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “Trust me?”

  “I … okay … I will … just …”

  “What?”

  “Sleep with me … if you’re here next to me … I won’t be thinking … I won’t …”

  “Okay.”

  He slid beside her, then he lifted her T-shirt over her head. Instantly his nostrils filled with the scent of skin and just the faintest essence of … coconut?

  She clasped her arms around his neck and shoulders and rolled on to him.

  “Racey?”

  “Rachel.”

  This girl was too soft, too supple, she smelled just too good. Her hair was too lush, too silky, and her lips were just too … too …

  He kissed her and pulled her against his chest. He felt her cushion his cock between her thighs as she trailed kisses down and down until he felt her pubis brush against his cock and her nipples trail down his thighs. Then his cock sprung free again and tapped her under her chin. She responded by taking him into her mouth.

  Her tongue snaked along his length, setting off little elect
rical charges that built rapidly. He was not going to be able to hold back his fluids much longer. He forced himself over on his side, flipping her to the edge. Her lips glistened in the moonlight; her eyes conveyed a question.

  He rose on to his knees and clasped her ankles. He straddled them as she rose on to all fours lifting her ass to his face. He positioned himself behind her, took hold of her hips and pressed his cock between the plump folds of her pussy. Then he was inside her, listening to her moan with each thrust. And just below his eyes, the perfect blue disk seemed to pulse.

  He felt her shudder, then allowed his fluids to surge out of his cock and flood her cunt. A sparkle caught his eye, like tiny pulses of lightning off her fingernails. Her head was buried in the pillow. He didn’t think she had seen them.

  They awoke just before they shut down the complimentary breakfast.

  They were awake, rested, and a little sore.

  “Are you going to tell me now?” she said, then downed a glass of orange juice in a single gulp.

  “Hungry?”

  “Always, after a workout.”

  “Pretty sassy for a nun.”

  “I never took my vows.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Well?”

  “Okay,” he said. He put his hands flat on the table and stared at them awhile.

  “Yes?” she pressed.

  “Jacoby is a little worried about you. Cardinal LeRocque is a lot worried about you. Me, I don’t think there’s much of a problem.”

  “Problem? Jesus, why did they put us together? You’re not a trainer.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you. Promise me you’ll sit there and not let on, no matter what I say.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m supposed to evaluate you and if this problem should manifest itself …”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m supposed to kill you.”

  She coughed up the remains of a muffin she’d been nibbling on.

  “For crissakes, Locan. What the hell problem are they talking about? It’s like I’m one of the things they send us out to hunt.”

  “Hmm. Remember what I told you about the cane devil?”

  “I dunno, what?”

  “That it was probably some creature that evolved naturally, like you and me, or a lion, or a lizard.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Okay, so science pretty much agrees that mankind originated in Africa thousands of years ago. We were a bunch of monkeys’ cousins and then we climbed out of the trees and stood up straight, and began this long walk that eventually brought us out of Africa and into the Middle East and Europe and Asia, and all along the journey we kept becoming more and more what we call human today. Following?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Okay, well, somewhere along the line the family split. Some of us followed one path, some followed another … I’m talking the evolutionary path now.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So we have the Neanderthals and then we have the Cro-Magnons, who eventually evolve into us. The Neanderthals, well, looks like they hit a dead end. The point is, the human stalk split.”

  “Yeah, okay, we survived and they didn’t.”

  “Okay, so what if there were other stalks from the same tree, and they survived and evolved just as we did, but separately … but not so separately that you could tell us apart that easily, except for one or two very important differences.”

  “What … differences?”

  “Like being born with a blue disk over your ass.”

  She froze, her eyes narrowed and bored into his.

  “Racey?”

  “What … what are you saying?” Her chin trembled.

  “Look, you’re a good person, a bright intelligent girl. I won’t let anything happen to you, or tell you anything I don’t think you can handle. But you’re going to have to brace yourself from time to time.”

  “What the hell am I … supposed to be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know for sure. A hybrid probably. Somewhere back in your family; maybe your great-great-great grandma fell in love with some guy and they had babies with blue dots on their behinds.”

  “You make it sound so mundane. What am I?”

  “I promise you, we’re going to find out.”

  Back on the road they stopped only briefly for a bathroom break and a light meal. He drove on into the night, and would not stop for accommodation until the early morning hours.

  “You can’t appreciate the size of this country until you’ve driven across it,” he said after a long stretch of silence.

  “You should let me drive.”

  “Yes, I should.”

  She huffed. Then stretched. “You’re a killer,” she said, her voice flat.

  “So are you.”

  “Am I? I couldn’t kill another human being like …”

  “Like I did?”

  “Yes. Sorry.”

  “Hmm. You said you were religious.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Did you say you believed in God? I can’t remember.”

  “Yeah, I mean, I believe in something. I just believe there must be something … someone.”

  “Hmm. Well, remember when you were a kid and they taught you that everyone has a soul, and the soul is – what? – a bit of God Himself? The nuns used to say he passed his breath into every baby that was ever born.”

  “Yeah, I heard that too, at sisters’ school.”

  “Well, I’m not sure about God, but I believe in the soul. I just don’t believe everyone has one.”

  “But … that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “No? Look at people, good or bad. The ones with intellect, the ones who have a deep thought, even if it’s just once in a while. I think they have souls. But look at the rest. Like that lovely couple we left behind us. Something like that just lives to feed its appetites. And it’s not just what we’d consider the scum of the earth. From white trash right on up to the nouveau riche yuppie shithead who’s acquired his latest BMW, or yacht or mansion … you know the type, they calculate their own worth and everyone else’s according to how many things they’ve accrued. They have no souls, because as insubstantial as a soul might be, it takes a lot to fill the void where it doesn’t exist. So they fill it up with things.”

  “So, what are you saying, that it’s okay to kill people like that?”

  “I’m saying if it has no soul, it isn’t murder when you kill it.”

  “Did that cane thing have a soul?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. But that was self-defense.”

  “Maybe you think too much,” she said, then yawned.

  He pulled into another hotel. A sleepy clerk checked them in. Another room, much like the one in which they spent the night before. This one they entered from a balcony. Outside it began to rain; droplets beat against the window.

  They stood together in the darkness by the window. A lightning flash illuminated the courtyard; another caught a naked couple in the room directly across from theirs having sex in their window, a fleeting image of a woman with her breasts pressed against the glass.

  He chuckled. “You can’t enjoy sex if you don’t have a soul.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if you don’t, fucking is just about the fucking, it’s just chalking up another pussy or prick, just another fuck to tally on top of the ones you’ve already had. Just so you can say you had more tail than the other guy.”

  “And if you have a soul?”

  “Well, then it’s about …”

  “Making love?”

  “Or … something else. In any case, you do it with another person. Some people have sex, and it’s no different than if they were masturbating.”

  “You think too much.”

  “Let me take a shower at least,” she protested weakly after he tossed her on the bed and tugged her shorts and panties off.

  “Uh-uh,” he said. He knelt and breathed deeply, his nose pressed against her dark pubic patch.

&
nbsp; He spread her thighs apart. She didn’t resist.

  Then his tongue laved her swelling vulva. Her own tongue slipped along her lips as his licking became more determined.

  He kissed and sucked; he also stroked her clit with the tip of his nose. Each time she felt like she would levitate off the bed. His lips sealed to her pussy as his tongue probed the walls of her cunt and she grabbed handfuls of bedclothes in her fists. Tongue, lips, nose – his fingers stroked her pubic hair – he used them all like a master conductor creating a piece of music, and she was singing the aria. She came with a shudder and a squeal and lightning flashed like it was inside the room and blue fireflies danced in her eyes.

  It was an exhausting orgasm; she wanted to lie still forever and let it just drain away. But he turned her over and lifted her ass.

  “Please …” she mewed, knowing it was futile, knowing that he was going to take her from behind again.

  “I hate nuns,” he said as he plunged his cock into her. “I never thought I’d enjoy fucking one.”

  “Unngh! I told you – owwww – I never took my vows.”

  “No, you’re a nun, and I’m doggy-fucking your nunsensical brains out. Hear me, Sister Racey Pink-snatch?”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Convent slut! I’ll make you do more than say your rosary on your knees.”

  “God!” she gasped. “You bastard … fucking … fuck me … geeesh … I can’t … coming again!”

  She almost bucked him off the bed. His cock slipped out trailing an arc of semen.

  Afterward, they took a shower together and toweled each other off. Then they fell naked into bed.

  As she slid into slumber, Rachel whispered, “I have a soul.”

  “I know.”

  She was barely more than half his age, he thought, as his mind crested a wave of coddling comfort on its way to slumber. He liked the way she nestled in his arms; he liked screwing her from behind. He never should have let it get this far. He didn’t care.

  Now his thoughts veered off on to other avenues, taking him for a ride toward the inchoate realm of dreams. He was a child listening to his mother’s mother, sitting rapt as she spun stories about his great-grand uncle, the Civil War hero, the sniper with a sixth sense. Then a worm bored into his dream, corkscrewing out of the darkness. His eyes snapped open and he bolted up in bed. A woman outside the window, standing on the balcony, held a pistol in a combat grip. It was aimed right at him.