by Jaime Maddox
“Well, no one that I know of. It’s technically possible, though. It had seven miles on it when I bought it.”
They climbed into Ward’s car and headed down the long drive. “And you’re not even taking into account the mechanics and the valets. I’m sure they’ve all taken it for a spin.”
Ward stopped before turning onto the road and smirked at Abby, who was glaring at her.
“Not funny.”
Ward patted Abby’s leg. “I’m just kidding. They never do that.”
“If you keep this up, I’m not going to feed you.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize food was involved. I’m sorry for my insensitivity.”
“You should be, and you’re forgiven. But don’t let it happen again.”
They quickly found themselves at the launch area, and she dropped Abby off at her truck and then followed her home. She parked behind the Porsche and stepped out of the car. As she surveyed the house from the front, she was amazed at the difference in the two points of view. The construction of wood and stone was the same, but the front and side yards here were a meadow of wildflowers. It was just as picturesque, but so very different from the back of the house with its rustic charm.
Abby pulled the leash on her kayak, and Ward helped her carry it to the garage and cradle it in the hanger in back. “Are you serious about dinner?” Ward asked as they worked to fasten her craft to the roof of her car.
Abby’s eyes twinkled. “I have veggies and chicken marinating. I’ll turn on the grill and throw together a salad, and we’ll be eating in twenty minutes.”
Suddenly Ward was filled with a wonderful joy. The warmth of Abby’s smile and the welcome in her eyes did more than her words to let Ward know the invitation was genuine. “What can I do to help?” Ward asked.
Abby motioned with her head, and they walked through the garage and into the basement of her house. It was vacant, except for a few gardening items stored neatly against one wall and the bathroom Ward had just used. “The basement is known to flood, so I try to keep it empty.”
“That must be hard,” Ward said as she followed Abby up steps she hadn’t noticed before. They entered a large, open kitchen with vaulted ceilings. To her right was a spacious living area, with the same high ceilings. On one wall, huge glass panels flanking a fireplace gave a glorious view of the river at the side of the house. A door beyond presumably led to a bedroom. The house was small but magnificent, with natural wood and windows to let in the light and the view.
“It’s the price you pay for this,” Abby said, waving her hand toward the yard and the river beyond.
“I guess it’s worth it then.” Ward took a moment to look across the yard of boulders and flowers.
“It is.”
“So what can I do?” Ward asked.
Abby assigned her the menial tasks of pouring water and setting the table, and as she did, she couldn’t help peeking at Abby’s perfect ass bending down to turn on the tank feeding gas to her grill. When she finished, Abby stood and turned, catching her in the act. She felt the blush flash across her face and it seemed to spread through all of her. She looked quickly away, but not before she caught Abby’s answering smirk.
Rather than face her in the kitchen, Ward took a seat at the table and admired the view from the deck while she waited for Abby to emerge. The smell of chicken wafted through the air, birds sang yet again, and across the yard the river hummed faintly through the trees. They were in full bloom and surrounded her with a shield of leaves, and other than the man-made things in view, everything was green.
A moment later Abby emerged from her kitchen, carrying a tray bearing everything they needed to complete their meal—salad, dressing, salt and pepper, barbeque sauce. After placing the tray on the table, Abby checked on the food grilling nearby. Seeming satisfied, she removed everything and placed the food on a plate in the middle of the table. “Help yourself,” Abby said.
“Oh, wow,” Ward said when she bit into the chicken.
Abby looked pleased but blew off the compliment. “It’s just chicken.”
After swallowing, Ward wiped her mouth and leaned back into the cushioned seat. “But really, really good chicken. Do you like to cook?”
Abby chewed and swallowed before answering, then leaned back too, matching Ward’s pose. “It’s a necessity when you live alone.”
Ward swallowed the thought that she would soon understand the routine of living alone and nodded, then busied herself with a bite of grilled red pepper.
“I take it you don’t cook?” Abby asked, refusing to let Ward off the hook.
Ward looked up to meet Abby’s gaze. Her eyes seemed to soften in the late-afternoon sun, as if she understood all of Ward’s secrets and liked her anyway.
“No, I do. A little. It was too expensive to eat out in school, so I figured out how to make a few things to get by.”
They finished their food with harmless conversation about baseball and fishing, and the golf outing planned for the following weekend. Frieda had enthusiastically agreed to join them, and Ward had to admit she was looking forward to the day. When Abby rose to clear the table Ward tried to help, but she dismissed her with a wave of her hand, stacking everything into a pile she was able to carry on the tray in one trip.
“So may I presume there’s no Mrs. Ward?” Abby asked when she returned.
Ward closed her eyes. The large umbrella shaded her from the late-afternoon sun, but she still felt its warmth, and suddenly Abby’s inquiry made her feel uncomfortably hot. She’d known this question would come up. She wanted to see Abby, to be with her, yet Jess was still there. She was a part of Ward’s life, her world, her heart. Saying no, telling Abby there was no one in her life seemed like such a betrayal. It seemed dishonest, untrue. Yet it was true—Jess was no longer her partner. Jess had told her to move on, as she had. It was time for Ward. Even if it was only for one night, or one week, or for the twenty-four days she had left in this town, she was going to enjoy herself.
“No,” she said without turning to face Abby. “No Mrs. How about you? Do you have anyone special in your life?”
Abby didn’t sound disappointed when she answered. “No.”
“That surprises me.”
Abby rearranged the place setting before her as she seemed to ponder Ward’s comment. “I’m like an onion, with lots of layers. I like the arts and I like sports. I like to hang out at home sometimes, and travel, too. I like to cook, but I love to eat at five-star restaurants. I enjoy a cocktail or a glass of wine, but I don’t want to get drunk. And I don’t want to be with a drunk. I can listen to any kind of music—and I like to listen to all of it. I’d get bored if I listened to the same thing all the time. It’s sort of the same with women. I’ve never found one that I thought could hold my interest, and I’m realistic enough to admit it. If I meet someone absolutely perfect, maybe I’ll get serious. Until then, I’m going to have fun. Does this make sense?”
Ward nodded, her mind spinning. After the comments about alcohol, she hadn’t really paid much attention to Abby’s words. Why bother? Abby would be sending her on her way soon, when she learned she’d recently gotten so intoxicated she assaulted two men. And when she figured out how boring she was. In spite of what Jess said, she didn’t feel like she needed much. She liked to do things and keep busy, but she didn’t need those things. What she needed was what she’d always had—a partner to come home to, a few books to read, a bike to ride or a boat to paddle. If Abby was an onion, with many layers, she was more like a strawberry. Sweet, but with no depth, no layers at all. She was simple, really, and she suspected Abby would grow bored quickly.
“Perfect sense,” Ward said.
“Okay, so what would you do if I turned on an opera right now?”
Ward focused on the music playing in the kitchen, a soft rock song on a popular channel. It was probably what she would have chosen for the night on the deck as well. But could she handle opera? Sure. “Well, I wouldn’t sing, that’s for sure. I have trouble w
ith the high notes.”
Abby laughed. “So you’re not a fan?”
Ward shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I actually think opera’s beautiful. But I can’t sing for shit.”
“Well, thanks for the warning.”
Her voice had dropped a measure, and Ward turned her head to meet Abby’s gaze. “What?” she asked, self-conscious as Abby’s eyes bore into hers.
Instead of an answer, Abby stood and bent forward so they were nose to nose. Ward might have turned away, moved slightly to give Abby the answer to the question asked in the form of her brief delay. Instead, Ward stood her ground and silently told Abby it was okay.
Abby cupped Ward’s chin with two fingers, and Ward turned slightly, closing her eyes. Their lips barely met, and she could feel Abby’s breath on her mouth. It wasn’t so much a kiss as a caress, the softest of touches that caused a tingling that began at the site of contact and shot quickly to her toes. An instantaneous throb began between her legs, as if her pulse was beating there.
Just as quickly, Abby pulled back and offered a hand.
Ward took it, grateful because her legs seemed to be numb and her head was spinning from the kiss. She needed direction, and Abby seemed to be a compass.
“I’d like to show you the rest of the house.”
The proffered hand pulled her up, held her steady, drew her nearer until they were face to face, and Ward wrapped both arms around Abby’s waist and pulled her closer still, until they were one. They were the same height, and everything seemed to fit perfectly as their hips locked and breasts mashed and mouths crashed into each other. This wasn’t the same tender caress, but a needy, demanding kiss, and both of them asked much of each other with their tongues battling and conquering. Ward felt all of Abby against her, and the heat of the contact seemed to melt her. Her brain was foggy, her muscles like mush, and her center a pool of lava.
“Okay.” She didn’t even care that she sounded so lame.
Abby pulled back and grabbed her hand again. “Come with me.”
She followed Abby through her cabin, across the kitchen and great room and through French doors on the other side. Once through the threshold, they turned left, into a huge bathroom with marble tile from floor to ceiling. The colors were all earthy and blended with the natural woods and stone she’d seen throughout Abby’s home. Abby pushed her gently onto a supple leather bench and then knelt on the floor, carefully removing the sandals from Ward’s feet. She bent and silently demanded another kiss, and Abby complied. It was minutes before they pulled away, breathless from the mingling of tongues and breasts.
Then Abby stood before her, her breasts at eye level, and reached down, pulling Ward’s shirt free of her shorts and up and over her head. Without missing a beat, she slipped off her own top. Ward stood and turned Abby gently, kissing her as she spun. Her forehead, her ear, the back of her neck, down to her shoulder. Her skin was salty, her smell musky, and Ward’s heart pounded with anticipation. They faced the mirror now, and she looked up to see Abby’s eyes closed but her mouth slightly open, a look of wonder on her face. Then she looked at herself and smiled.
The bra holding Abby’s breasts was off in a second, and Ward removed her own. The feeling of Abby’s bare back against her breasts was intoxicating. Closing her eyes to the vision before her, she moaned with the simple pleasure of a soft touch. It had been so long since she’d touched a lover this way, and she savored the sensations. Who knew when this might happen again?
She moved slowly, allowing Abby’s skin to caress her nipple much like that first kiss on the deck, barely touching yet causing an explosive reaction. She reached around and opened her eyes to find her hands appearing on Abby’s chest, watched her fingertips find the stiff peaks of Abby’s nipples, then felt the quivering of Abby’s entire body as she sank back into her. Abby opened her eyes, and as they locked gazes, Ward thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful as the desire she saw now.
Abby turned then and knelt again, this time to remove Ward’s shorts. The underwear only came down to mid-thigh when Abby buried her face in the triangle there, pulling Ward into her, seeking with her tongue to know all of her. Then she pulled back, and as Ward shed her shorts and underwear with a swift kick, Abby removed her own, turned on the shower, and beckoned her inside.
The water was the perfect temperature and felt like hot raindrops on a summer’s day, falling from the overhead fixture. And as Abby once again stepped into her arms, the water caressed them as they devoured each other. Abby pulled back, reached for shampoo, and then spilled a huge puddle into her hand. Then she palmed Ward’s head, and Ward closed her eyes and allowed her to have her way. Fingers firmly massaged her scalp and the water cascaded over her. The pressure lightened across her forehead and her face, in her ears and behind them, along the muscles of her neck, one side and then the other. Then her head gently tilted forward as Abby rinsed the shampoo, and soapy hands slid down her arms and back under them, across her chest, beneath breasts and between them, and then lower, slowly down her belly, through the curls of hair at the bottom, and through her legs, across her ass, and up her back. Abby paused briefly to kiss her stiffened clit before sitting cross-legged to wash her legs. Picking up her right foot, she washed from toes to thigh, then repeated her efforts on the left, until every inch of Ward was covered in soap and thoroughly rinsed.
Abby shifted to her knees and gently guided Ward down, against the wall of the shower, so her sex was under the falling rain of the showerhead. Using both hands, Abby pushed her legs apart and knelt between them, then put her mouth on Ward. The wetness at her center had nothing to do with the falling rain and everything to do with Abby, and she quickly drilled a finger into the puddle at Ward’s entrance. Ward gasped, and Abby stilled the finger as her mouth devoured Ward’s sex, licking and sucking her clit and her labia as Ward rose from the floor to meet her mouth, then grabbed her head to hold it in place. Abby still moved, though, both her finger and her tongue, and very quickly the orgasm she was trying to coax from Ward came crashing down on both of them. Ward clenched her vaginal muscles, squeezing the thrusting finger, and arched back and into Abby’s mouth. Her cry was soft and quickly turned to a laugh of pure joy.
With her head on Ward’s belly, Abby rested for a moment, and then, to Ward’s surprise, she grabbed the bottle of shampoo and began washing her own hair. Mesmerized, and exhausted, Ward could do little more than stare at the magnificent woman who so brazenly had claimed her on this beautiful day. Abby tilted her head back, and Ward imagined her mouth leaving a trail of kisses along her graceful neck. Her eyes followed Abby’s hands and she imagined her mouth there, and when Abby soaped her breasts, Ward thought she saw her abdomen clench. It happened again when Abby reached between her legs. Ward thought she spent much more time spreading soap than was necessary, and her expression suggested she was taking much pleasure in this cleansing. Suddenly fearing Abby would bring herself to orgasm without any help at all from her, Ward sat up and demanded the soap.
Abby handed her a thick washcloth, and Ward finished the job in much the same way Abby had done earlier, first with one leg and then with the other, and then by pushing her back onto the shower floor as she dove into her pussy. Ward’s face was filled with Abby and she had to pull back to take a breath, then began again, rubbing Abby’s clit with her nose and her eyes and her mouth as two fingers worked their way inside and began circling each other around the tight walls of Abby’s vagina. The combination of sensations appeared to be too much, and Abby suddenly clenched her legs and her pelvis and held Ward’s head in place as she cried out in pleasure.
Only the cooling water forced Ward to move, and she reached up and turned the knobs until the flow trickled and then stopped. Collapsing next to Abby, she kissed her triumphantly. Ward should have felt exhausted from the day on the river and the powerful orgasm, but she didn’t. She was happy and excited and energized, and wanted to spend what remained of the day with Abby, doing just what they’
d done in the shower. “Any chance there’s a bed in this place?” she asked, as she trailed kisses from Abby’s ear to her mouth.
Abby bit the smile from her lower lip as she slid out from under Ward and stood, offering her hand once again. “A great big one,” she said.
Ward allowed Abby to pull her up, and into her huge bed, and they stayed there until Abby had to leave for work in the morning. For the second consecutive night, she didn’t sleep, but this time, she didn’t mind at all.
Chapter Nineteen
Dead on Arrival
Subtle indentations in the wooden surface of the desk told Edward it had been well used over the years. Like the craftsman home that housed it, the desk had been around a long time. Did it have tales to tell? If he placed a naked paper over it and etched with a pencil, what would it say?
Nothing as interesting as what he wrote this day, he was sure.
Looking down at the elegant sheet of linen paper, printed especially for him, he felt his pulse began to race. Nearly a hundred similar documents had piled up in his collection over the years, but he treasured every one. Each new acquisition was as exciting as the first. That first victim’s name was Helise, and she was once his babysitter. Edward had strangled her in an act of rage after he discovered her fucking her boyfriend. He had watched from the shadows, first the sex, and then the escape as the boyfriend jumped to the garage roof and then onto the Ford Bronco hidden beside it, then drove away with the headlights off. Edward had been tempted to kill him, too, but in a flash of genius he’d realized the police would find cause to blame him for her murder, setting Edward free. What better revenge could there be?
As the Bronco’s taillights had disappeared into the night, Edward snuck into her room, following a path he’d taken hundreds of times before, when Helise preferred his cock to her boyfriend’s. For almost three years, they’d been lovers. Sure, they’d never acknowledged it in public—she was five years older than him, after all—but he’d had exclusive rights to her. Wherever, whenever. Three, four, sometimes five nights a week they’d get together for tutoring sessions where she taught him cunnilingus and how to fuck, how to give her multiple orgasms.
