Just about the only good period was when her folks spent a week in Las Vegas. He had stayed home that whole time except just to do the races and one dance he had to do. He took her to the mall and bought her some new clothes and the next evening he told her to dress up nice and they went out to eat at Bridenthal’s, which wasn’t a fast food place, but an elegant restaurant near the harbor. They went to a movie and he lounged beside her the whole time, his hand on her upper thigh, with her thinking she just wished the damn film would get over with so they could go home and go to bed. He let her spend every night that week with him. She thought it was the closest she’d ever get to heaven - going to bed with him every night and waking up with him every morning, knowing as soon as he roused up, he’d start kissing her and touching her. All that week she went to school so happy, people asked her if she’d snagged some Valiums or something.
She thought he was probably doing part of it on purpose, staying away as much as he did. He kept bringing up how she needed to be prepared for when he wasn’t around at all. People probably thought she was lucky, living in the mansion she lived in, with the pool and the tennis courts and the horses and the boats. They didn’t have the faintest idea how lonesome, and sometimes, scary it was to live in a house so big, where bedrooms stretched down the hall for about a mile. It was probably different when all the big kids were still home and there were brothers and sisters behind every door but now all those bedrooms were empty. And the master bedroom where her folks slept was downstairs, at the other end of the house, so far away they probably wouldn’t even hear her if she screamed her head off. She still had nightmares some times and if Rafe wasn’t there to come and calm her down, the nightmare usually escalated into a panic attack. When that happened, she had to jump out of bed, turn on the light and watch something boring on t.v. until her heart stopped racing and her breathing returned to normal. The kids whose families weren’t as rich as hers might envy her but she’d give anything to live in a snug little ranch house where everyone was practically on top of everyone else.
She really tried to take what Rafe said to heart. Sometimes she’d look around at the boys in school and think, “would I like to go on a date with this one?” or “how would it feel to be in bed with that one?” and just the very thought just made a shiver of revulsion go down her spine. She could not even conceive of having sex with anyone but Rafe.
*
He was having lunch at the marina. He’d noticed in an off-hand kind of way that his waitress was attractive (he’d have to be on his deathbed not to at least notice). Probably in her mid to late thirties with a trim figure in her uniform and short black hair, beautiful brown eyes and a generous smile. He certainly wouldn’t have given her a second thought though. Another woman was the last thing he needed right now. But then she asked him if he wasn’t Rafe Vincennes and when he told her yes, she said her daughter, Misty, went to school with his sister, Lane, and her name was Pam Madison.
And then he instantly flashed back to the conversation he and Laney had had about the girls talking sex in gym class and he especially remembered that Misty’s mother had said most women faked it and that she had never been brought to a climax by a man. And suddenly, it was a whole new ballgame. Now he saw her, not just as any other appealing woman, but as a challenge. He thought he would have to play this one very, very carefully. Misty’s Mom seemed like the type who would be horrified at the very thought of taking up with her daughter’s friend’s 16-year-old brother.
So that first day, they just chit-chatted a little whenever she came to ask him if he wanted more coffee or a piece a pie (which he ordered although he didn’t want it) or was he ready for his check - about the girls and how he’d be going off to school next year. He didn’t attempt even the subtlest pick up line. Just left a tip, neither too big nor too small, and went on his way.
Rafe was nothing, if not patient about something he wanted badly. He didn’t eat at the Marina every day, just now and then, and each time they became a little friendlier and talked a little longer. He felt like he was making progress the day she agreed to sit and have a cup of coffee with him when her shift was over. He confided in her then about the way it had been with him and Laney.
“Mom and Dad just basically called it quits on being parents after the first seven so I feel like I practically raised her although,” he smiled his fleeting smile, “I’m pretty young to be a Dad.”
That was another little opening to discuss barely teenage girls and the problems they presented. Fortunately, he wasn’t lying so he really did know about things like the logistics of getting them back and forth to cheer practice and how much it cost to outfit them for the Squad and how all the middle school girls thought, Mr. Schmidt, their Biology teacher, was creepy and called him Frog Freak.
After a month, he got her to open up a little about her personal life. She was dating a guy named Joe. It wasn’t a great love match but Joe was solid and reliable and she could count on him for things like taking the car to have the tires rotated and getting under the sink to fix a leak. And he was good to Misty and to her and her first two husbands hadn’t been. Misty’s dad was an alcoholic and she’d caught the second one cheating with her next door neighbor.
“I can’t see why any man would want to cheat when he had a wife as pretty as you, Pam.”
And then he changed the subject.
By the end of the next two weeks, he was flirting, just a little, and she was flirting back, just a little. To be fair, most women would have found it pretty hard to resist Rafe when he was putting on the full court press.
He calculated the timing, figured it would take him two more weeks to get the job done.
“Pam, would you consider going for a drive with me?”
“Are you crazy, Rafe? You’re a 16-year-old kid!”
“It wouldn’t be a date or anything. I just enjoy being with you. I like talking to you. I like looking at you.” The smile gleamed in his dark face. “Just a ride in the car, Pam, that’s all. It’s a beautiful night. I’ll put the sunroof back. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go and bring you back whenever you say.”
“Just a ride, Rafe, that’s all, and you’ll bring me back when I’m ready? Do you swear?”
“I swear, Pam.”
It was a beautiful night, balmy and star-filled. The trees rustled in the light breeze. The bay glistened in the moonlight. He parked the Corvette in a spot he knew by the water where it was always private. They just talked. He didn’t try to touch her, not until the very end, when he put his hand behind her neck and leaned down to kiss her. Not a long kiss but a definite one, enough that he felt her lips opening under his.
“We’d better go back, Rafe.”
One more week, he thought.
“Let me spend one night with you, Pam, just that. I don’t want to muck up your life. I just want to spend a night with you. Then you can go off and marry Joe and live your stable, solid life. Just one little fling, Pam, before you get back on the straight and narrow for good.”
“Rafe, my God, if anyone ever found out, I’d die of embarrassment.”
“Yes!” he thought triumphantly, “done!”
“No one will find out, Pam. We’ll go into D.C. I’ll take you to one of the best hotels in the city. We’ll have a great meal. We’ll have a wonderful time. And then I’ll kiss you good bye and leave you alone, I promise.”
She looked at him across the table. Her mind said, “you have lost your marbles to even be thinking about this.” Her voice said, “I’m off Thursday. I could go Wednesday night. I’ll let Misty stay at her Grandma’s house.”
He nodded. “Wednesday night, it is. Park your car on the second floor of the hospital parking garage. I’ll pick you up there.” The smile came and went. “You won’t get cold feet and stand me up, will you, Pam?”
“No, I’ll be there.”
*
And she was. He found the car where she was waiting and pulled up beside her. She slipped quickly into the ‘
Vette. She did have cold feet. In fact, she’d tossed and turned all night thinking about the stupidity of what she was doing and who she was doing it with but it didn’t matter. When the time came to leave to meet him, she was pulling out of her driveway. She thought she looked pretty good for 37. She’d paid extra attention to her make up and her hair. He’d said they’d go to an up-scale restaurant so she was wearing her black silk dress with the vee-neck and the skirt that swirled around her legs and strappy fuck-me heels.
When she got into his car, he’d just looked at her for a minute and said, “you’re beautiful, Pam,” and kissed her lightly.
And she almost didn’t recognize him. She’d never seen him in anything but blue jeans or shorts but tonight he was wearing black dressy jeans and a blazingly white shirt, open at the throat, that showed off his tan, and a casual black sport coat. He’d obviously been to a hair stylist. His usually too-long hair with the lock that tumbled across his eyes was sleekly razor trimmed.
“What do you think?” he asked her, running his hand across his head, “I usually don’t pay too much attention to hair until I can’t see but I didn’t think the old hair went with the outfit.”
“From Rafe the Beach Bum to Rafe the Dashing Man About Town - it’s sort of a startling switch but I like it.”
“I figured this way I’ll look older and you won’t have to be so stressed about what people are thinking.”
He took her to the Regnier Hotel in downtown Washington, a suite no less. She knew it must have cost at least a month of her tips at the Marina. She guessed this was how the other half lived. He’d had a dozen red roses sent to their room in advance with a card that said, “Thanks, Rafe.”
They ate at the hotel dining room where he ordered the shrimp scampi and she had filet mignon, baked potato, a salad and two glasses of Merlot (which she needed for her nerves), asking him self-consciously, “is Merlot okay to have with a filet?” To which he replied with amusement, “anything you like is fine.”
She noticed that if you were wanting to keep a low profile, Rafe Vincennes was not the person to be with. Every woman in the room seemed drawn to look in his direction. She could tell he was aware of it but he didn’t so much as glance back.
The closer it came time to go to the room, the more anxious she got.
He took her hand. “Pam, just relax. I’ll make it all right. I promise.”
She thought it was ironic that the 16-year-old had to reassure the 37-year-old that it was okay to have sex.
He didn’t rush her. They just sat and talked until finally she was the one who said, “well, I think I’m ready to leave if you are.”
He grinned. “I’ve been ready all evening.”
*
Just inside the room, he put his arms around her and kissed her, softly and sweetly.
“Just let me lead the way. I’ll make it easy for you,” he told her.
She felt the zipper go down at the back of her dress. He lifted it over her head and laid it across the chair so it wouldn’t get wrinkled, then turned back to her and unfastened her bra. He slipped it over her arms before carrying her to the king-sized bed where he carefully stripped off her panty hose until she lie naked. He ran one hand lightly across her breasts and down her belly, his fingertips trailed across her mound and along her thighs. Just that, but she felt like little tongues of heat flared up where his hand had been.
She watched him undress himself. Shoes and socks, then coat and shirt, pants and underwear. She saw his lean brown torso moving toward her and she closed her eyes. She felt the bed give as he lay down beside her.
“Open your eyes, Pam. It’s more fun when you watch. I like seeing you. I want you enjoy seeing me too.”
She looked up to glimpse the black hair, the dark eyes, the gleaming smile, coming down over her. He kissed her softly on the lips, his tongue probing the inside of her mouth. And then he kissed her forehead, her eyebrows, her cheeks, her chin.
“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispered in her ear.
He kissed her throat and shoulders and above her breasts and then he moved to each breast, kissing and licking and lightly sucking, his tongue tickling across her nipples.
She started to lift her hands to put them on his shoulders.
“No, just lie there. I want to do this for you. You can get involved the next time.”
So she just lay, with her head spinning, as she felt his mouth move down her belly and to her inner thighs, leaving hot wet tongue lines in its wake. She felt him hold her open with his fingers, then felt his tongue investigating her, lingeringly, and then on her sweet spot, tickling and massaging, but slowly, gently, tenderly, as he had known he would have to be with this woman.
Until, in time, she felt orgasm beginning to stir, like it had been put to sleep by an evil witch’s spell until the Prince’s kiss aroused it from its slumber. It lifted its head, then began to move, finally leaping into full joyous wakefulness.
“Oh, Rafe, oh, Rafe,” she panted, “that feels so good, oh, please don’t stop!”
Mentally, he made a small tick beside her name in his sexual memory book. If that sounds cold, it really wasn’t. He had his own reasons for seducing her but he also thought that he was giving full value for what he got.
He moved back up beside her. “Now,” he told her, “you can join in.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, pressed herself against him, sucked his nipples, ran her hand down his hard, flat belly, down the thin line of dark hair that went from his navel to his groin, to where his cock was standing at full attention. Meanwhile his hands and mouth were all over her too. His finger circled her nipple, his mouth nuzzled her neck and gave her tiny little love bites on her shoulder. He ran his finger into her vagina. It was wet and creamy.
“I want to fuck you now,” he said, “are you ready?”
“Yes,” she said, spreading her legs, “do it, do it!”
He mounted her and she felt him slide inside, then begin to move in and out, slow smooth strokes.
“There’s no hurry,” he told her, “just let it happen, Sweetheart. I won’t go ahead of you. I can give you all the time you need.”
He felt her breathing quicken and her hands clutching at his back. Her legs went up and around him. Her hips reached up to meet his.
He practically sang in her ear. “Ah, Pam, it feels so sweet to be here. God, I’ve wanted to do this since the first day I met you. Let’s do it together, Baby.”
And they did. Her back arched, she let out a huge sigh of satisfaction and he felt himself exploding inside her.
“Mmmm,” she said, “that was great, Rafe.”
She fell asleep with his arms around her. When she woke up, she was snuggled up against his back with her crotch pressed against his butt and her face against his shoulder. She lay for a moment without moving, luxuriating in the hard body stretched out beside her.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
“How did you know I was awake?”
“I felt it.” He turned to face her. “One more time before we have to leave?”
“Let me go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
White teeth flashed. “I won’t go anywhere.”
She peed, brushed her teeth and ran a quick comb through her hair. When she returned, he pulled her hand over onto his cock, saying, “this time you get on top.”
“No,” she said, “I’m not an on top kind of person. I’d be too nervous thinking you’re looking at me.”
“But I want to look at you. I want to see the look on your face when you make yourself happy. Come on, Pam, just climb on over here and sit down on it. You don’t have to do anything else at first. If you do that and you still feel more comfortable the other way, we’ll change positions.” He lifted her until she was straddling him. “Just come down on it until it’s clear inside you.” She felt the head of it at the entryway to her pussy, felt herself slipping down onto it until it fille
d her up, “Just be still for a while. Can you feel how anxious it is for you to make it come?” he whispered.
And it seemed like she could feel it throbbing inside her or maybe it was her vagina, throbbing around it, excited by the foreign object trapped within it.
“Now move around a little, play with it, use it for what you need.”
Desire overcame her reticence. It was as if her whole being was focused on the place between her legs. She did as he said, rotating her hips to feel it pushing inside her, looking for release. She began to feel small, slow waves of pleasure breaking against the shore of her consciousness.
“Ride me, Pam. Here, let me get you started.”
His hands came around her hips as he guided her to help her find the right rhythm. She was panting now, moaning a little in her throat. As she rode him harder and faster, the small slow waves grew until they were great rolling breakers, carrying her onto a blissful beach, leaving her sensuously content and completely emptied of stress. She collapsed onto his chest. She realized she’d forgotten all about him.
“Rafe, I’m sorry, did you…?”
He grinned. “It’s okay, Baby, I hitched a ride with you.”
*
“What shall I do about the flowers? How would I explain them if I took them with me?”
He shrugged. “Leave them for the maid. I don’t care. I only wanted them to be here when you first arrived.”
She left the roses but pocketed the small card that came with them.
(He had deliberately planned that card. He knew the female penchant for saving souvenirs so he made the message as innocuous as possible, enabling her to explain it away later if she needed to).
Sociopath? Page 9
