She saw Shaun move, his head bobbing. His arm moved up and down as a patting sound came from the front of the couch. “Come sit down.”
“Okay.”
She moved slowly, making her way over to him, her hand cupped in front of the flame. As she reached Shaun, she saw he had scooted to the edge of the couch, spread his legs, and was patting the spot between them.
Debbie set the candle on the table, stepped over his leg and turned around. Then she sank down, stopping when her rump touched the floor. She stretched her legs in front of her, under the coffee table.
“Now relax,” he said.
“I’m trying.”
“And I’m helping.”
His strong hands squeezed her shoulders and started rubbing. It felt good. Debbie closed her eyes, letting her head dip back into his lap. The softness behind her didn’t last long before she felt the comfort of his lap hardening.
And smirked.
Already getting a hard on.
She couldn’t help feeling at least a nuance of pride at that.
His hands gently worked on her shoulders and neck, firm fingers rubbing circles. He seemed to know all the spots. Being a personal trainer, he was supposed to know all of the good spots on a body.
A moan escaped her. A jittery tingle traveled down, settling deep in her groin. Her feet crossed, toes arching in her shoes.
His fingers slipped under her shirt, still rubbing, now on her skin. It felt better, feeling his touch without anything between. Feeling the warm friction his massaging made on her skin. His hands reached over her shoulders, down her chest.
Debbie’s breath caught. She wanted to tell him to stop, that this wasn’t the place. Randy was right outside. He might come back at any moment. They needed to wait until tonight, when they were alone in their room. But her voice didn’t work. She was in a trance, an almost coma-like daze from his constant kneading in all the right places. And knowing that they might get caught also made it even better. Riskier. That was something both of them enjoyed on occasion, adding a little thrill, making it exciting. The mood in the room, the fireplace, the candle, the storm outside, ears nearby that might hear, all mixed together into an elated gamble.
So, instead of stopping him, she only gasped as his hands slid into her bra, knuckles pushing the cups back. His hands closed over her breasts. Her turgid nipples pushed against the insides of his fingers.
The firmness behind her head seemed to grow even more, pointing into her hair.
Debbie arched her back as Shaun massaged her breasts. She raised herself, pushing up with her feet, rising slightly. His hands pulled out of her bra and her nipples still tingled; her breasts throbbed without his touch.
Shaun reached over her, grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up over her breasts. When he let go of the shirt, it stayed bunched on her chest. She glimpsed her flat stomach, dusky in the golden light, and watched his hands glide down. Her stomach fluttered as his hands moved lower.
Then they dipped into her pants.
She felt his fingers prodding and poking as they worked her panties to the side. Debbie trembled, huffed shaky breaths, reached up and grabbed his arm.
A finger slipped in, making her gasp.
She shook as the finger wiggled, working its way deeper. Seeing how Shaun’s arm was twisted to the side, she realized it couldn’t be comfortable for him. Releasing his arm, she found her pants and unbuttoned them. Then she sat forward. Shaun had to pull his hand out.
“What are you…?” was all he managed to say before she stood up.
Debbie turned around, kicking out of her shoes and pushing her pants and panties down in one quick swoop. Shirt rolled above her breasts, she was naked from her bra down to her knee-high socks. Her skin looked bronzed under the harsh white of her bra in the orange light.
Shaun groaned when he saw her. “Oh boy.” He started fighting with his belt, got it undone, and was pushing his pants down to his knees as she approached. The pale staff of his penis jutted up, thick and tall.
She crawled onto him, planting a knee on either side of him. She grabbed his shoulders, wiggling her hips to find him. When she felt his stiffness rub across her, she stopped moving. Holding on to his shoulders, peering into his eyes, she slowly lowered herself.
Her soft folds spread around him, widening as she was impaled. Shaun’s hands clutched her buttocks, massaging them.
Debbie, hands gripping his shoulders, started thrusting. Shaun’s hands explored her. Pushed her bra up to her scrunched shirt, squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples. She bit down on her lip to keep from moaning too loud. Randy was probably below them, fumbling around with the fuse box. He would be able to hear them if she got too loud.
She shouldn’t be doing this. Any moment they might get caught. If it was a fuse, then the lights would come on after Randy had replaced it, alerting them he was on his way.
But if not…
Debbie grinned at the thrill.
Her release was already near. She felt it building inside of her, filling her, pushing her fleshy walls closer against Shaun’s massive thickness. Shaun reached up, took a pigtail in each hand and tugged them. The tugging of her scalp lit her head up with fire that only added to the pressure growing between her legs. Her thrusts turned harder, more intense. She was so close…
Then she felt Shaun let go, pumping and spurting, triggering her own release. He pulled on her hair so hard she thought he might rip her pigtails right off. And in that moment, she would have been okay with it. Their bodies tensed together, moving in one collective motion as Shaun drained himself inside of Debbie.
Shaun let go of her hair. His arms dropped to the couch. Debbie fell forward, collapsing against him. She put her forehead on his shoulder, lips rubbing across his shirt, panting. His arms curled around her back to hold her.
She loved how his arms felt around her, cradling her inside their strength. Whenever Shaun held her like this, she felt protected and loved.
Safe.
Then Randy’s screams came through the floor, bloodcurdling shrieks that seemed to suck all the heat from the room. Debbie’s skin went tight and crawly.
Randy
Hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, he watched the door gently wiggling. Darkness was beyond the opening. He could see where snow had sprinkled into the cellar, across the threshold.
“Someone in there?”
His voice sounded odd and flat in the cold air.
Other than the soft howls caused by the wind, he heard nothing.
Maybe Shaun left the door open after looking at the dryer.
Randy walked into the cellar, pushing the door wide. Light spilled in from behind him, cutting out a dark shape of himself on the dirt floor. Under the shelter of the crossbeam ceiling, he brushed the snow off his shoulders and arms. He pulled the hood off his head and cringed as tiny drips of cold scattered over the nape of his neck.
He clicked on the flashlight. A funnel of light cut a narrow path through the darkness, illuminating the stilts coming down from the ceiling. He swiped the light across the walls, hitting the washer and dryer, shelves stocked with home-canned goods that were probably very old and a vat of empty darkness beyond.
Stepping behind the door, he found the switch for the light. He flicked it up and down a couple times, but the bulb remained dark.
Turning to his left, he shone the light against the wall. It moved over thin, crunchy nests attached to the cinder blocks, abandoned by the dirt daubers that had built them.
He saw the metal frames of the fuse boxes in the corner, glinting under the flashlight’s beam. There were four of them, different sizes, stacked in a single vertical row. He had no idea which one held the fuse for the living room.
Randy walked toward them, watching the shadows push away from him as he closed in. He stood in front of the boxes, lo
oked them up and down. Deciding to start with the top, he opened the thin door. Only two fuses were inside. In a faded-black scrawl, he saw written above the bulbs: Hot Water Upstairs and Down.
Not this one.
He shut the door. Tried the next one. Four fuses and none of them were labeled. Leaning closer, he slowly moved the light across each fuse. None looked black inside, so they should be okay.
The third one also held four. Written on the metal plate was Downstairs Power.
Each slot was empty. The fuses were missing.
Randy’s hand jerked, dancing the disc of light across the box.
“Oh my God…”
He stumbled back, keeping the light on the fuse box. His foot came down on something that felt like a rock. It rolled out from under him, pulling his foot with it. Randy’s ass hit the floor. Something hard rammed his buttocks. He held on to the flashlight, which now was angled up and shining in his eyes.
“Shit!”
He lowered the light away from his face. Dull pain worked from his hips into his lower back. The bulging knobs continued to press into his buttocks.
Wincing, he leaned to the side, reaching under him. His fingers brushed across something hard yet flimsy. He felt ribbed indentations curling around it. He pulled it out from under him. Holding it up, he illuminated it under the flashlight.
Green and white, shaped like a spinning top. A fuse. He aimed the light at his feet, moving the tunnel of dull light this way and that until finding the object that had caused him to slip.
He recognized the copper tip as another fuse.
“What the hell…?”
Somebody removed all of the fuses. Was Ted trying to work some kind of trick? The guy seemed to enjoy making people laugh, but even he should know this would be taking things too far.
Ted didn’t do this.
Cold dripped down from Randy’s heart into his stomach. The hairs on his arms tingled.
As he moved the flashlight away from the fuse, it landed on a snarling face between his feet. Randy jerked at the tiny mouth spilling drool in thick strips. It was the size of a Barbie doll, dressed in tattered garments, with teeth smaller than pebbles, but sharp like a shark’s. Its yellow eyes glowed in the wavering light.
Hissing, it flung its spindly arms over its face to block the glare, then ducked down behind his feet.
Randy felt it squirm into his pants leg, wriggling and crawling up his leg.
He screamed. In the bouncing light, he saw the swelling in his pants leg. Starting low, it rose as the thing climbed. He pounded the bulge with his fist and the head of the flashlight. Sharp cries of pain came from inside his pants. Randy heard crazed laughter and realized it was his own.
He slammed his fist down again and again, beating at the hump. It kept climbing, though, no matter how many times he struck it.
Looking around, Randy saw a small tin bucket. Its rusted surface still showed hints of a flowery design. A variety of handles protruded from inside. Randy scuttled back. He felt sharp pinches in his leg from tiny teeth clamping down.
Swinging his arm, his hand struck the bucket, turning it over. Gardening hand tools spilled out with a tinny clamor.
He didn’t bother shopping for a weapon. His fingers curled around the wooden handle of a hand tiller. He turned around, the flashlight in his left hand and the tiller in his right, staring down at the lump on his thigh. It squirmed under the denim of his pants, nearing his crotch.
Son of a bitch!
He slammed the tiller down, all three blades going straight for the hump.
And missed.
The blades punched into his thigh, spurting blood. Randy screamed again as blood streamed in three paths down his leg.
The lump continued its climb, away from the gardening tool jutting from his thigh, leaving a path of fire along his leg.
The damn thing’s biting me!
He felt rows of teeth clamp down and yank back. Holes being torn in his flesh, fresh blood saturating his pants.
A knife, clutched by a small hand, punched into the hump of denim. The chewing ascent froze and tensed as pain-filled gurgles came from inside his pants. It jerked a couple times before going still.
Randy stared at the hand clutching the knife, breathless. He raised the flashlight, tracing the arm with its light. It ran up a thin arm to a bony shoulder.
The light landed on the face of a young girl.
Her clothes were nothing but rags. Poorly crosshatched stitching patterns held them together. She had a top on that left a small band of her midriff bare above a tattered skirt that hung above her knees. Her hair was probably brown, though it was hard to tell for sure because of the mud and leaves caked throughout.
Her size told him she wasn’t very old, maybe around thirteen or fourteen.
Sinking to a crouch, she reached out to him. When she smiled, she displayed a mouth full of filed teeth. Randy shook his head, unable to grasp why her teeth looked like that.
Though she was just a girl, he feared her as much as the tiny skewered creature inside his trousers.
She reeked of old sweat and rot.
Reaching for him, she waddled closer. A hand touched his shoulder as the other reached for his face.
“Quit,” he said.
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Please…”
Giggling, she stroked his cheek. She looked into his eyes. Randy detected her edginess, almost like a girl with a crush, as she leaned in.
Her lips smeared across his.
Heather
They shouldn’t have stopped for some butter burgers before going to the grocery store. They’d gone into Golla’s wanting some coffee and had eaten an entire meal. To Heather’s relief, Florence was the only familiar face in there. The plump waitress acted as if she didn’t recognize her and exchanged the same flirty dialogue with Chad as she had with Ted.
And the food was good. The burger was juicy and warm. They went through a lot of napkins wiping the grease that dribbled down their chins. The fries were the size of thumbs and gleamed from the salt.
The best part was getting to spend even more time with Chad without the hustle of having to get things done. But they should have saved it for another day. Now they were driving back in a sports car in snow that was coming down in heavy glops.
And it was getting dark.
“Can you see?” she asked.
“Hardly,” he said.
Heather looked out the windshield. All she could see were fluffy white balls coming down, splatting against the windshield like bugs. The glow of the headlights seemed to bounce off each individual flake, making them shimmer.
She leaned slightly to the side, and looked at the instrument panel. The speedometer held at thirty. Randy wouldn’t be happy they’d stopped to eat. She could see him now, pacing a gutter into the floor, wondering what was taking them so long.
Heat blew from the vents, filling the car with warmth. Combined with her full belly, she felt cozy enough to take a nap.
It might make the ride seem shorter.
But she didn’t want to sleep. Any moment with Chad where they could truly be alone was going to be rare, and she would savor it while she could.
They’d had a great talk at the diner. She’d told him all about the nightmares, about how she hated living with her mom and paying the mortgage on her own house. She’d explained how she was tempted to sell it, especially if the center was a success. She’d stay at the center until she found something in Doverton.
“Plenty of empty places around there,” Chad had said.
Though he wasn’t joking, she’d laughed. And her laughter had prompted Chad’s. It wasn’t funny at all, but neither of them could stop. It was true; the town was nearly vacated. She’d seen enough proof of that already. The fire had ruined a majority of the farming fi
elds, and what land was still functional was barely being used.
Hopefully, it wasn’t a premonition.
Please, God, don’t let us fail.
She’d shared so many things with Chad tonight, and it felt better having them out of her. Their burden was gone. She truly felt lighter on her feet, how she used to feel after a good orgasm.
Heather resisted the smirk that wanted to form. She’d even told Chad the rape hadn’t killed her desire to have sex, just her ability to enjoy it. Anytime she felt the need to go, or, God forbid, actually went, all the way, Grunnel reminded her of how he’d robbed her of the satisfaction sex used to bring her. Before Grunnel, she used to be very aggressive in all her sexual endeavors, usually taking the role of instigator. She liked the control it gave her over the men. She wasn’t loose with it, but those who she felt were lucky enough to deserve it, she let them have it.
But only by her own rules.
She liked it when they tried to take the control from her and it became a struggle over who was truly in charge. Chad was like that. But what was really great about him was how he was always so willing to compromise, allowing her take the lead for a short while before he snatched it right back.
God, she couldn’t wait until tonight. She hoped for a struggling session after everyone was in bed. This time would be different. She was confident Grunnel would realize she no longer accepted his presence, and she’d taken back all the power he had over her.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Chad said.
Heather smiled. “Wow, a whole penny? You’ve got one of those?”
“Maybe just one,” he said, smiling. “It’s shiny.”
The Lurking Season Page 21
