The Evil Returned

by Richard Raven

  And that was the whole point. They truly needed this, even if it was only for one night. Angela kept staring up at him. A stray lock of her dark auburn hair had worked out of her ponytail; Jeff gently brushed it out of her face and behind her ear.

  That did it. She sighed and dropped her head, her face against his chest.

  “A nice quiet supper at home for two just won’t cut it, will it?”

  “Nope. Tonight, my wife will have only the best and be waited on hand and foot.”

  “What am I going to do with you?” she murmured.

  “Keep me, I hope.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “Who else but me would have you?” she teased, gently. Then her voice turned a little hard. “Or, maybe, the better way to say it, who else but you would have—?”

  Jeff lifted her face and pressed a finger gently to her lips, cutting her off. “Don’t you dare,” he whispered. “I’ve had to listen to that ever since you lost your job. It’s not your fault that it’s been rough for us.”

  “You know we’ll have to dress up, right?”

  “So we dress up. I’ve got some decent clothes in the closet and you’ve got that little black dress hanging in there that you never get a chance to wear anymore.”

  “You mean the one you never get a chance to see me wear anymore? Okay, sailor, I see now where you’re coming from. What time did you say our reservations are for?”

  “Seven-thirty.”

  She pulled from his embrace. “Then we better start getting ready.” She started out of the room, unfastening her jeans, but stopped when her phone on the coffee table buzzed. She frowned at the phone as she picked it up.

  “Hey, Suzie, what’s up?” Angela listened for several seconds. “Not today, I can’t. Jeff came home early and he told me we’ve got plans tonight. I was just about to jump in the shower.” Another pause. “I’m sorry, Suzie, I didn’t know until just a little while ago that I was going out tonight.” Angela closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “Look, I’ll come over tomorrow and we’ll go somewhere for lunch, okay?” Another pause. “Okay, I’ll talk to you then. Bye.”

  “Did I mess something up?” Jeff asked.

  “No, you didn’t,” Angela replied, a bit of a snap in her voice. With a sigh that seemed a little weary, she tossed her phone on the sofa. “I swear,” she murmured, more to herself than to Jeff, “she’s turning into a real pain in the ass. Look,” she said to Jeff, “can I get the shower first?”

  Jeff nodded. “Go for it, sweetheart.” He watched her leave the room, thinking that had been a strange thing for her to say about one of her oldest friends.

  Yet he had to agree with the sentiment. Susan Romine had been a pain in his ass practically from the day he met Angela. Romine was the only one of Angela’s three best girlfriends and invited co-workers who didn’t show up at their wedding. That had upset Angela and had put a bit of a damper on their three day honeymoon in New Orleans. He knew as well as Angela why Romine didn’t show up—it was because of him. For reasons he never understood at first, Romine had never liked him and had always seemed to go out of her way to let him know it. There were times when she was rude, others when she was downright hostile. Other times, especially of late when he happened to run into her, she ignored him as if he wasn’t within a hundred miles of her. One day about a month after their wedding, Jeff had finally asked Angela what the problem was.

  “Jeff, she really can’t help it. She spent three years in a bad marriage and almost a year that was worse getting out of it. If you were a woman and you had gone through all the hell she did, trust me, babe, you’d feel the same way she does toward all men.”

  That had always seemed answer enough; Jeff had never asked Angela anything else about her friend. In the time since Angela lost her job, Romine had stopped coming to the house altogether. Angela always went to her place whenever they got together and always during the day either on weekends or while he was at work.

  That was fine with him. He had learned the best course with that woman was to avoid her altogether.

  Chapter Four

  Susan Romine had rushed to her bedroom when the call to Angela Taylor ended, sprawling naked across her bed and screaming her frustration into her pillow.

  That…man…had screwed everything up for her yet again. Again! Yet another chance snatched away right from under her fingers at the last second, leaving her lonely heart bleeding and empty again. Goddamn his worthless male ass! Goddamn him to everlasting hell!

  She’d had it all planned: call up Angela, talk her into coming over, then meet her at the door without a stitch on and lead her by the hand back to what had been, at one time, sheer bliss for both of them. Back before the penis showed up and ruined everything! That man took from her the only person she had ever felt truly loved her without reservations; who understood her and what she needed. The only person who ever would.

  With all the curtains drawn and no lights on, the bedroom was in near darkness. Susan rolled onto her back, the pillow held to her chest, and cried hard and silently. All I’ve got to do is get through to her…and I would’ve done it this time for sure.

  It had almost happened two days ago. Angela had dropped by, looking for some company and conversation. Susan’s heart had ached for her, as it always did whenever Angela was close enough for her to reach out and touch. Angela had been out looking for a new job and upset over the miserable luck she was still having. She had started crying—Susan had never known her to cry—sitting right there on the sofa. Susan had gone to her and put an arm around her. Then she had kissed both her tear-stained cheeks, then kissed her lightly on the lips Angela’s arms went around her, pulling her close.

  Soon they were kissing each other as they once had; their hands exploring each other as they once had. Before he put that lousy ring on your finger. Susan’s heart had started beating hard and fast. And gave you that worthless piece of paper. They began undressing each other, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. And after so many long months of being denied you. Then Susan was naked, Angela in nothing but her panties. The only thing left in our way…keeping us apart. Susan had knelt in front of her and slowly pulled her panties down. Oh, God…she’s so beautiful. She had urged Angela to lie back on the sofa with the gentle touch of her hands. That’s it, my lovely one…open your legs to me…to us.

  Angela, her eyes closed and breathing through parted lips, was as aroused as she was. Susan, her hands gently but eagerly stroking the warm flesh of Angela’s thighs, leaned her face closer to that place she craved, already immersed in the contact to come.

  Then Susan felt Angela stiffen. She looked up and it felt like someone had stabbed her in the heart when she saw the expression of complete horror on Angela’s face.

  “No!” Angela had cried, sitting up, her hands reaching between her legs to cover herself. “What in the hell are we doing? I’m a married woman, for God’s sake!”

  Seeing Angela covering herself, as if ashamed of her clear and aching desire for this to happen, was worse than most of the abuse Susan had endured from the only man she had ever let touch her. “That didn’t stop you when you went after that…other man,” Susan had snapped. “Why should it stop you now?”

  “That other time was different,” Angela had retorted, reaching almost frantically for her scattered clothes. “It had nothing to do with love or even sex, and I told you that at the time.” She went still, most of her clothes piled in her lap. “Suzie…you know all my secrets, so it can’t come as any great shock that I love him so much.”

  “He doesn’t deserve you. No man deserves you…not as much as I do.”

  “That’s not for you to say, one way or the other,” Angela had said softly. “It’s for me to decide who deserves me. Suzie…I love you. I always have and I always will…only not like that. It can never be that way again. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it has to be.”

  “I don’t know how you stand it,” Susan had said and shivered in revul
sion. “To give yourself to any man is bad enough—but him? That family he comes from? And that brother he has? Doesn’t it scare you half to death, knowing what his brother did, for him to climb on top of you and put that…thing of his inside you?”

  “No,” Angela had retorted as if the very suggestion horrified her, “it doesn’t scare me. I love Jeff and the way he makes me feel—everything he does and everything I do to please him.”

  “Well, honey, it should scare you. Remember, every little brother wants to be just like big brother, no matter how much they may claim otherwise.”

  “Suzie, look, as far as his brother, yes, I’m scared of that man. Everyone is scared of that man—including Jeff. There have been times, I admit, when I’ve wondered about Jeff. He does have a temper and, here lately, it does seem as if he’s been a lot quicker to lose it than he used to be.”

  “See there, I told you so. Believe me, girl, the day is coming.”

  “But he has never laid a hand on me like that. Never.”

  “And you don’t think that’ll change if he ever finds out about your little fling?”

  Angela, looking away, had made no reply.

  “So you are afraid of him after all.”

  “He’s never once given me any reason to think he would ever hit me or hurt me.”

  “They never do until they slap you right off your feet the first time and tell you it’s what you deserve.”

  “Suzie, you’re my friend, I love you and I’ll always be there for you if I can…but what happened here today can never, ever happen again. If it does, it’ll be the end of our friendship…and I don’t want that. Please understand that and accept it.”

  With an almost feral screech, Susan flung the pillow away and rolled to edge of the bed. She sat up, her body rigid, and glared through narrowed eyes into space. She would never understand how Angela could reject her for a man who could never please her as she could. Nor could she bring herself to ever accept it. The thought of her beautiful Angela, giving and wasting herself on a man—and a man who was, literally, a bomb waiting to go off—was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

  “You bastard,” she breathed in a venomous hiss. “Someday, someway…I’ll fix your ass, but good. I swear I will. I only hope I get to you before you have a chance to get to her.”

  Chapter Five

  Just over an hour after Jeff arrived home, he was waiting for Angela to finish getting dressed. Scrubbed clean, his face a little pink from shaving, Jeff wore a pair of pressed khakis, a white button-down shirt and a pair of black leather boots. Angela, her makeup done and her auburn hair down and brushed to a shine, stood at the foot of the bed. Wearing only a black lacy bra, the matching panties in one hand and her other hand on her bare hip, she was staring down at her black dress waiting on the bed. Finally, shrugging and glancing at the panties in her hand, she went to the dresser, on top of which lay her glasses, and began rummaging in a drawer.

  Jeff had been watching her from where he sat on the bed for several minutes, amused. He had always loved to watch her when, as he had always called it, she was in “full fuss mode.” That she had never cared for the phrase had always made it even more amusing to Jeff. There had been precious few chances to see it lately; he was even more convinced it was a good thing to be happening now.

  “Damn it,” she murmured irritably, “I know good and well I’ve still got a pair in here somewhere.” She pulled the drawer out a little more and dug deeper. Watching her in the mirror, Jeff saw her frown vanish as she pulled a pair of pantyhose out of the drawer. She dropped the lacy black panties in the drawer and returned to the bed and sat down next to Jeff.

  “My, my,” he said, “going all out tonight, aren’t you?”

  “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” she replied, busy with her task and not bothering to look at him.

  “Well,” he began, but she cut him off.

  “Just hush and let me finish this.”

  Once she had pulled on her nylons and slipped into her dress— “Can you zip me up?” —she stepped into her favorite pair of black high-heels and went back to the dresser, checking herself in the mirror. After giving each lip one last stroke from a tube of rich-red lipstick, she picked up her hairbrush.

  As she continued to work on herself at the mirror, Jeff let his eyes stray to the bedside stand and framed photo sitting next to the lamp. In the photo Angela looked back at him, her face lit by her bright smile.

  Angela, though, had never liked the photo. She had always complained about it, especially when he brought an eight-by-ten copy of it home one day and put it in the frame. In it she wore her glasses, her hair an untidy pile pinned up in back, and she had a smudge of dirt on one cheek. He had snapped the picture himself, catching her by surprise late one afternoon. They had just moved into their new home; she was helping him with some clean up in the backyard. What didn’t sit well with her about it was that he had sneaked up on her with a camera at such an unflattering moment. In hardly more than an eye blink her bright smile had vanished. She threw down the rake in her hands, slung off the pair of work gloves of his that she had on, and chased him all the way into the house.

  Jeff, thinking her anger was all a put on, laughed the whole time he ran from her. She caught him in the bedroom and pushed him hard from behind onto the bed. Still laughing as he rolled onto his back, she took her glasses off and kicked off her flip-flops. Then she climbed onto the bed and dropped astride of him, her knees clamping his hips, her hands pressed against his shoulders. She glared down at him as if she was seriously thinking of biting something important of his off and spitting it out on the bed. Jeff grinned up at her.

  “Ah, my little Spitfire,” he said.

  Without missing a beat the anger washed from her face. Her hands moved from his shoulders, now cupping his face, and she was kissing him, heated and wet kisses, her probing and darting tongue searching for his. He tugged at the T-shirt she was wearing, freeing it from her denim cutoffs; his hand slid under the thin material, reaching for the hooks of her bra. The soft skin of her back already felt warm under his fingers as he deftly and greedily worked to free her breasts. She rose up from him just enough for him to pull her shirt and bra off together. He cupped the firm mounds of her breasts, her dark and erect nipples pressing like diamonds into his palms. She squirmed a little, moving her body so she could get at the snap of his jeans, then the zipper. Her eyes were closed and her head arched back as his stroking fingers teased her nipples. Her bottom lip quivering, she slid a hand under the waistband of his underwear. He was almost fully erect; her fingers closed around him and squeezed and not gently.

  “Damn,” he moaned through clenched teeth, “I love it when you do that.”

  “Really?” she breathed, a teasing purr, still squeezing him. “Show me how much you love it, baby.”

  “I’d love to show you…so come here to me.”

  Sometime later, she lying on top of him, their bodies still damp from the heat, she whispered, “Mmm…I guess you do love it.”

  “Did you really get mad because I took your picture?” he asked, his hands stroking her back.

  “Yes, I did, damn you,” she had declared, raising her head and giving him a reproachful look. Then her face softened and she nestled her head against his chest again with a sated sigh. “It’s just that…when you called me Spitfire…I don’t know…it just did something to me and I had to have it.”

  From then on Angela had been “My little Spitfire” at the most intense moments of their lovemaking, and the photo had always been his favorite of her because of it.

  Smiling, Jeff rose from the bed and walked up behind her. The delicate scent of her perfume was like a caress. He lightly clasped her waist.

  “Sweetheart, you look fantastic.”

  The compliment earned him a scowl that she flashed him in the mirror. “I think you’re just horny tonight,” she observed wryly, pulling the brush through her hair.

  “That’s a bad thing?
”

  “I didn’t say that.” Her voice was now low, husky, the scowl gone from her face. She tucked her hairbrush into her purse, turned to face him and kissed him lightly on the lips. Even in her heels she had to raise herself on tiptoes to reach. “But first, let’s enjoy a good supper together, okay?”

  “You got yourself a deal. Don’t forget your glasses.”

  “They’re staying right where they are for the rest of tonight. They make me look like a demented school teacher, anyway.”

  Jeff shook his head. She was always so hard on herself. If not bitterly lamenting the fact that she couldn’t seem to find a new job, then she was complaining about her glasses or the roundness of her face or the plainness of her features. If not one of those four, she was complaining about the way she felt that Mother Nature had cheated her in the areas of—to borrow her phrase—“butt and boobs.” She often told him in tender moments (and breathed in his ear at the height of fiery passion) how lucky she was to have a man who loved her so much, in spite of everything, and couldn’t seem to get enough of her. On those two points, she never got an argument from him.

  As he was about to follow her out of the bedroom, Jeff hesitated, his eyes going to the bed, a serious and considering look on his face. Angela noticed his hesitation, saw his expression and read it perfectly.

  “Don’t even think about that,” she told him, her voice soft but firm.

  “Sweetheart, it’s kind of hard not to. I still remember it all too well.”

  “So do I…I was here that night, too, remember?”

  Jeff nodded. “It’s just weird that nothing’s happened yet. It’s like waiting for a hurricane to roll out of the ocean and blow you away.”

  “Nothing’s happened so far and nothing’s going to happen tonight.” Angela gave him a wink and a saucy little smile that left him with a pleasant shiver. “Nothing bad, I mean. When we get back here, I’ll show you just what I’m talking about.”