After Midnight

by Richard Laymon

“Where?” I asked.

  “Where do you think? At our camp in the woods.”

  “You were there?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You must really get around,” I said.

  A smile spread over his face. “I do, I do. It’s my specialty. Getting around. Coming and going. In a most sneaky fashion.”

  “You weren’t very sneaky last night in the pool.”

  “That doesn’t count. I wanted you to see me.”

  “Sure you did.”

  “Watch out, you’re treading close to sarcasm. I may have to hurt you.”

  “You’re going to kill me, anyway.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “Sure.”

  He leaned forward slightly in his chair, and something gouged my leg.

  “Ow!” I scooted back my chair and looked down. On the side of my left calf, I now had a small, crescent-shaped wound. Made, probably, by the nail of Steve’s big toe.

  “Real nice,” I said.

  “Be my good girl and these things won’t happen.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Not hard enough. When I tell you something, accept it.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. I was supposed to see you last night.”

  “That’s right. You only see me when you’re supposed to.”

  “Okay.”

  Grinning, he said, “Do you know that I spied on you yesterday afternoon?”

  “No. Did you?”

  “Absolutely. For a couple of hours. And you were completely unaware of my presence.”

  “But I’m sure you were there.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “You were sunning yourself by the pool,” he said. “A vision. That’s when I decided I must have you.” He frowned. “Not me so much as Milo, actually.”

  “You wanted me for him? That fat, disgusting slob?”

  “He always got firsties. That was our arrangement. I would’ve gotten you after he was done.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “Cheer up. He won’t get firsties anymore, thanks to you.”

  “Good.”

  “I could almost feel sorry for him. He was very much looking forward to you.”

  “Is that so? Was he here, too?”

  “Oh, no. I discovered you all on my own.”

  “Where was Milo?”

  “Back at camp with Marilyn.”

  Marilyn? Must’ve been the dead woman in Milo’s tent.

  The woman he’d been eating.

  Had Steve been at her, too? I didn’t want to think about it. “If Milo was at the camp,” I said, “how could he be looking forward to me?”

  “Oh, I went back and told him all about you. And, of course, I showed him the photos.”

  “What photos?”

  “I took Polaroids of you.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Not in the least. I always take snapshots of our special gals.” Grinning, he said, “Before and after.”

  “After?”

  “You know.”

  “Jeez.”

  “We have quite a striking collection, really. We? Hum. It’s just me, now. I’m going to miss that big galoot. There may be lonely times ahead.” He drank some more of his margarita.

  “So you not only spied on me yesterday afternoon, you also took pictures of me?”

  “Exactly. I got several excellent shots, too. Close-ups. For a few of them, I was this close to you.”

  “How close?”

  “As close as I am now.”

  Three feet? “No way,” I said.

  “Oh, yes way. I’m very good at sneaking about.”

  “Those cameras are noisy.”

  “I didn’t say you were awake at the time. Let me tell you, your snoring was considerably louder than the camera. You were asleep right there,” he said, and pointed at the nearby padded lounger where I’d napped, off and on, through much of yesterday afternoon. “When you weren’t asleep,” he said, “you were drinking Bloody Marys, reading a John D. MacDonald book called A Tan and Sandy Silence, and…”

  “Okay, I get the picture. You were here.”

  “You interrupted me.”

  “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

  “I was about done, anyway.”

  “What else did you do while I was asleep?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You didn’t…touch me at all?”

  “I was tempted. You looked absolutely scrumptious. As you do now. But you might’ve woken up. Anyway, it was my job to reconnoiter, not enjoy. Scout, and return with my findings to Milo.”

  “So after you took those Polaroids of me, you ran back to camp and showed them to Milo?”

  “He was enthralled. We’re rarely lucky enough to get our hands on anyone as…attractive as you.”

  “So then what happened?” I asked. “After you showed him the photos?”

  “Plenty. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that. You want to know about my return last night.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, we decided that Milo would stay in camp to keep the home fires burning, and I would pay you a visit shortly after midnight.”

  “Which is when I saw you.”

  “I let you see me.”

  “Okay.”

  “I knew you were watching. That’s why I took off my shorts.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I was hoping to lure you out.”

  “What?”

  “Lure you out.”

  “You’re kidding. You thought I’d come out if you stripped for me?”

  “Oh, it’s a tried-and-true technique.” He grinned. “In fact, you were pulling much the same stunt in order to lure Elroy out of the house just a few minutes ago.”

  “That was different.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “For one thing, I wasn’t some stranger. For another, guys are crazy about breasts. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

  “It doesn’t? I must say, that comes as a surprise to me. In my own experience, the stripping routine rarely fails. Of course, I don’t always get completely naked. That depends on the woman. But I often let myself be seen in various stages of undress. I’m just there, keeping my distance, pretty much minding my own business, as if I’ve shown up by accident. And I allow them to watch me, to spy on me. The longer they watch me, the more intrigued—and aroused—they become. It works most of the time.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Not at all. It’s so easy. I don’t have to break in and catch my victims, they come to me. More often than not. But you have to realize, I’ve already checked them out. They’re always women. Always alone. In some cases, it’s obvious that they’re…hungry for romance. You, for instance.”

  Feeling myself blush, I said, “You had that wrong.”

  “Did I?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  “I don’t believe it. It would’ve been obvious to anyone who saw you by the pool yesterday. That bikini you had on, the way you rubbed the suntan oil on your body, the way you sprawled on the lounger…you wanted hands on you. You wanted a man all over you and in you.”

  “Wrong,” I said, and squirmed a little.

  “I told Milo, ‘This gal’s as hot to trot as they come. I might not be able to keep her off me.’ So, I must say, it came as a shock to find you calling the cops.”

  “Couldn’t have been much of a shock, the way you started humping the door.”

  He looked confused for a moment, then grinned. “Oh, that,” he said. “Afraid I couldn’t help it. You looked so…ravishing. You were wearing that silk robe. And your breast was out, you know.”

  “Not on purpose.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  “No perhaps about it. It was an accident.”

  “Are there any such things as accidents? Freud, I believe, said no.”

  “Fuck Freud,” I said.

  Chuckling so
ftly, Steve lowered his eyes from my face to my breasts.

  “Let me see them now,” he said. “Take off the bra.”

  I gave some thought to refusing. But he would’ve hurt me. Besides, my bra was wet from the pool and not exactly comfortable. Also, it was a warm night with a soft breeze.

  On top of all that, he had the saber. If he wanted my bra off, it would come off whether I refused or not.

  I went ahead and took it off and dropped it to the concrete beside my chair.

  “How’s that?” I asked.

  “Spectacular.”

  I picked up my glass, finished the remains of my margarita, and set it down on the table. Standing up, Steve gave me a refill from the pitcher.

  When he was seated again, I said, “I wasn’t really calling the police, you know.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I just wanted you to think I was. It was a wrong number. Somebody called the house by mistake. But you had no way of knowing that. For all you could tell, it was me calling 911. I even turned on the light to make sure you would see me.”

  “What a gal. Gorgeous, tough, and tricky.”

  “Obviously, not tricky enough. Or as tricky as you. You didn’t really go away, did you? You just wanted me to think I’d scared you off.”

  “That’s right. I ran off into the woods, but then I circled back.”

  “Weren’t you afraid the cops might show up?”

  “Not in the least. If they’d come, I simply would’ve disappeared into the woods. I’m very good at disappearing.” He took a sip of his drink, then looked at me. First at my breasts, then at my face. Then he said, “So who did show up?”

  “You don’t know?”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Not as smart as you think you are,” I said.

  He lurched forward over the table and his hand flew out and slapped me across the face. Then, smiling mildly, he settled back in his chair and asked, “So, who did show up?”

  I rubbed my cheek and said, “A guy named Tony. I didn’t even know him. He was the one who’d called. I’d told him about you on the phone, and I guess he decided to come over and protect me. I guess that’s what he had in mind. He never told me anything.”

  “He came to save you from me, and you smote him with your sword.”

  “I suppose you saw that.”

  “Sure did. I saw everything, from the moment you opened the front door till you drove away with his pieces. It was a rather amazing spectacle.” Shaking his head, Steve said, “I could hardly believe my eyes when you started to dismember him. It seemed—so over the top.”

  “He was too heavy, that’s all. It was the only way I could get him into the trunk.”

  “I was awestruck. And rather smitten with you, I must admit. Not only was your behavior truly extraordinary, but you were stark naked much of the time. A sight to behold.” With a grin, he asked, “Were you naked by accident?”

  “I didn’t want to get everything bloody, that’s all.”

  “Well, I thank you. It was magnificent to watch you at work, all bare and sweaty. God, how I wanted you!”

  “So, how come you didn’t jump me?”

  “Oh, that would’ve interrupted your show. I wanted to see it through to the finish.” With a small laugh, he said, “I will be lucky enough to catch the end, though. I’ll be a participant in it. But I regret missing some of the middle parts. I wanted so badly to follow you when you drove away with poor Tony in pieces in your trunk.”

  “What did you do, go running back to the woods to tell Milo all about it, show him some more photos?”

  “I didn’t have the camera. It’s no good at night. The flash would give me away. No, I stayed at the house. I wanted to be there when you came back. So I waited and waited. I waited an awfully long time. It was just an agony, the waiting, because I longed for you so much. Finally, I decided to call it a night, and try again tomorrow. So I bid your house a fond farewell and hiked back through the woods to our campsite…and who should I find there but you? YOU, my splendid savage, in the very midst of a life and death struggle with my dear demented friend, Milo!”

  “And you did nothing but hide and watch?”

  “It was a splendid show. All of it.”

  “You just…let me go ahead and kill him?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Why didn’t you try to save him?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Why, oh why? Perhaps because you might’ve killed me? You had that pistol. I’ve never much fancied the notion of being shot. I certainly didn’t want to risk a bullet for Milo’s sake. I’d grown weary of him. He was so bossy. And he always had to have firsties. One gets tired of sloppy seconds.”

  A thoughtful look on his face, Steve said, “I suppose I was pulling for you to win. That would be a reason for not trying to save Milo, wouldn’t it? Also, I was enjoying the show too much to join in. There’s nothing like a good fight, especially when a woman is involved. Especially when the woman is you.

  “And then, after slaying Milo, you enthralled me with your bizarre treatment of Judy.”

  “You watched everything?”

  “And heard most of everything. It was wonderful.”

  “And then what happened? When I left. Did you follow me then?”

  “Ah, no. I gave it some thought, but…I was exhausted by then. So I let you go away, figuring I would stay at camp and take care of loose ends and save you for another day.” With a languid smile, he added, “A day like today.”

  “What about Judy?” I asked.

  “What about her?”

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Let me put it this way, darling. I cut her down.”

  48

  BODY HEAT

  Steve stuck a tortilla chip into his mouth and crunched it.

  “Uck. These are terrible.”

  “They’re healthy chips,” I pointed out. “Low fat, cholesterol free, salt free.”

  “Taste like paper.” He took a long drink of margarita to wash the chip down. Then he said, “Are you starving? I’m starving. Why don’t we go ahead and barbecue those steaks?”

  “They’re probably still frozen.”

  “Let’s have a look.”

  “Fine with me.”

  Steve and I got up from the table. Holding the saber in his right hand, he followed me into the house. At the kitchen counter, I lifted the T-bones out of the teryaki sauce. They were wet and slippery, and still stuck together. With Steve beside me and leaning forward to watch, I dug my fingertips into the edges where the two steaks met, and pulled hard. Suddenly, they came apart with a sound like ripping cloth.

  “Bravo!” Steve said.

  I set them down on the platter. “They’re still awfully frozen, but…”

  “I’ll thaw them out,” Steve said. Taking me by the arm, he turned me toward him. Then, using both hands, he lifted the dripping steaks off the platter and pushed them against my breasts.

  I gasped and flinched with their frigid touch.

  “This’ll warm them up fast,” he said, grinning.

  “Come on,” I said. “Quit it.”

  “Nothing like body heat for thawing out steaks.”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” he warned.

  I almost grabbed his wrists, but stopped myself in time.

  I did back away from him. He came after me, though, grinning and rubbing me with the steaks. Before I got far, my retreat was stopped by a turn in the counter. Steve cornered me and slid the steaks all over my breasts. They felt like slabs of ice. They made my skin burn. My nipples were rigid and aching. My breasts dripped with teryaki sauce, and dribbles ran down my belly.

  Finally, he tossed the steaks onto the counter. They thunked the tile surface and skidded a few inches.

  Clutching my sides with his wet hands, he crouched in front of me and started to clean the sauce off me with his mouth. First, he licked the dribbles off my belly. Then he slid his
tongue over my breasts. He licked and sucked.

  After the frigid beef, the heat of his mouth felt good.

  It all felt good, especially what he was doing to my nipples with his tongue and lips.

  But I worried about his teeth.

  What’s to stop him from biting me?

  What’s to stop him from eating me?

  His buddy, Milo, ate Marilyn.

  Maybe they both did.

  I clutched Steve’s shoulders, ready to thrust him away in case of trouble.

  And stared at the saber.

  Needing both hands for his games with the steaks, he’d left the saber propped upright against the counter, five or six feet behind him.

  But he was in the way, hunched down, working my breasts with his mouth.

  One good shove…

  He would land on his back within easy reach of the saber.

  If he gets it before I do…

  I couldn’t think straight because of what he was doing to me, but I knew this wouldn’t be a good time to risk an attack on him.

  Wait till it’s a sure thing.

  What if it’s never a sure thing?

  Just not now.

  He suddenly bit my right nipple. I cried out and rammed my knee up. As it caught him in the chest, his mouth sprang open, freeing my nipple, and I shoved him backward by the shoulders. His back slammed against the kitchen floor.

  Just as I figured, he landed beside the saber.

  Before he could make a reach for it, I lurched forward between his legs and tried to kick him in the groin. It was a powerful kick. It would’ve knocked his balls into next Tuesday. But his hand shot down and caught my ankle and stopped my kick cold.

  He could stop my foot, but not me.

  Even as he gripped my ankle, I dropped onto him, driving my knees down hard into his belly.

  He had solid stomach muscles. But not solid enough.

  The moment my knees hit him, he let go of my ankle. His lips formed an O. He said, “Ooomph!” His eyes bugged out, and his head and shoulders came up off the floor.

  For me, it was like kneeling on a raft shooting the rapids. I didn’t stand a chance of staying up. Thanks to the fact that Steve had been clutching my right foot, I’d gone down on him with my body slightly turned—facing the saber. So I fell toward it.

  As Steve’s face got jammed with the left side of my ribcage, I reached high with my right hand and got hold of the blade. Then I flung myself over, trying to roll off him. But he hugged me around the rump. I rolled off him, all right, but he stayed with me. I ended up on my back, Steve on top with his face between my breasts.