For Want of a Memory

by Robert Lubrican

  "Hurry. We can't leave him out there alone for long."

  "You want me to kiss it." He said it with a flat voice.

  "You hurt it. Kiss it better," she said, over her shoulder.

  He couldn't believe it was happening. She was so casual about her sexuality, even when there was the threat that they might be discovered. Just then she let her head down on the bedspread and let her belly sag so that her sex was in plain sight. It inflamed him. He went to her and first kissed, then licked the handprint. It was inevitable that his tongue strayed from there and she moaned as his tongue flicked at her. She didn't see him loosening his own pants and freeing his manhood.

  She did feel the tip of it pressing for entry from behind, though, and her shoulders surged up as her head came around, a retort on her lips. It was replaced by a groan, though, as he slid into her and reached around to feel for her breasts.

  "You shouldn't," she moaned, as her pussy muscles clamped down on his whole length.

  "I know," he moaned back. "You drive me crazy."

  "You have to hurry," she groaned.

  "You first," he said, humping hard into her.

  "No. Just finish. I want it to last later."

  "I want to finish," he groaned. "I forgot to ask you earlier. Please tell me you're on the pill."

  "Can't," she panted. "Cause I'm not."

  "Ohhh fuck, Lulu!" he groaned. "I want to so bad."

  "I want you to." Her voice was ragged with passion. "I love it when you finish in me. I love to feel it." Her head popped up and hit his chin. "Ohhhh right there! You're hitting my g-spot!"

  He couldn't feel the difference, but her body told him when he was in the right place. He put it there and then only moved in and out an inch.

  "You're being bad!" she moaned.

  "Finish with me," he panted.

  It had never been like this. He knew it, somehow. When he felt her begin to vibrate and her voice went from gasps to choking yips, he knew she was cumming. Just that knowledge set him off and he rammed hard, letting go. Her muscles helped him and then she pushed so hard at him that he had to step back. She lunged forward, rolled and kicked her legs up in the air, her hands going to her thighs. He watched in astonishment as she pulled her pants back up before her hips fell back to the bed. She bounced up off the bed and fastened them, looking at the door. Then she turned to him.

  "Don't just stand there with your junk hanging out," she scolded. "Put that thing away. What if Ambrose saw it?"

  "Ambrose has his own," said Kris weakly. "He's probably seen it a lot."

  "You know what I mean," she said. "You were very naughty. You made me orgasm."

  "Pardon me," he said, smiling gently. "I'll try not to do that again."

  "I love it when you finish in me, though," she said, tilting her head. "I might just forgive you because of that."

  "Um ... about that ... "

  "I have an implant ... an IUD," she said carelessly. "You don't have to worry."

  "Oh," he said. Something in his voice made her peer at him.

  "Oh no you don't, buster. Don't you go fantasizing about knocking me up. I have Ambrose. Been there. Done that. Have that T shirt. Once was enough for me."

  "I wasn't thinking about that," he said, trying to sound injured.

  "Yes you were. All men do that." She looked at the door again. "If you're a good boy you can pretend to do that again later. Now, I have to go check on Ambrose. He can get in the worst trouble in the shortest amount of time if I don't keep an eye on him."

  "I love you!" he blurted.

  If he thought she'd be shocked, he was disappointed.

  "I know," she said brightly. "That's why I love you, too."

  Then she was gone, leaving him to stuff his "junk" back into his pants.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Harper stared at the sheet of paper the postal employee had handed him. It was like that sometimes. You tried one thing, then another, and just when you were sure it wasn't going to pan out, you got the piece of information you were looking for. The forwarding address was for someplace called Pembroke, Connecticut.

  The landlord hadn't known where he'd gone. There had been an old credit card statement on Farmingham's desk, which had his account number on it, but the credit card company hadn't helped. They would tell him almost nothing without a warrant and he had nothing to get a warrant with. They had verified Farmingham was apparently still alive and using the card, but refused to say where it had been used. Jim thought it was passing odd that the man hadn't told his own girlfriend where he was going.

  He went back to his office, even though it was late. He'd make the call tonight. He didn't want to wait. He needed to make sure.

  * * *

  Mitch happened to be on duty, and happened to be in the station, when the phone call came in. It was on the admin line, rather than the 911 link, but he wasn't doing anything, so he answered, rather than let the machine pick it up.

  "Pembroke Police, is this an emergency?"

  He heard the static on the line that said it was a long distance call. Sound quality had gotten hugely better in the last ten years, but he could still tell when it was long distance.

  "This is detective Harper, NYPD. I need a little assistance, if possible," came a deep bass voice on the phone.

  "Mitch Connel. Be happy to help any way I can. What's a big city detective need from a little town like us?" Mitch smiled, even though he knew the man on the other end of the phone couldn't see it.

  "I'm looking for a man," said Harper. "Does the name Kristoff Farmingham mean anything to you?"

  Mitch was speechless. He'd known there was something about Kris that was odd ... something he was hiding. But so much time had gone by that it had faded to a spark. Now suspicion flamed to life again.

  "As a matter of fact it does," said Mitch. "What's he wanted for?" His voice was hard.

  "Well, his apartment was burglarized," said Harper. "We caught the burglar, but the DA won't press charges unless we can get a statement of complaint from the victim. I've been playing hell finding him, so I'm really glad you're familiar with him."

  "Burglarized?" Mitch's voice sounded hollow. "He's a victim?"

  "You sound surprised," said Harper. "Has this character caused you some trouble?"

  "No. Well, not exactly. He showed up under very strange circumstances and claims to have memory loss. He's actually living here under a different name."

  "Different name? Now that's interesting," said Harper. "The burglar turned out to be his girlfriend ... or at least she claims to be his girlfriend, and she claims he didn't tell her where he was going when he left town."

  "Well I'll be," said Mitch. If all this was just about trying to dump a girlfriend, Mitch was going to have a piece of his ass. It occurred to him that crashing one's car into a river ... on purpose ... in the middle of a cold snap, when he didn't know whether any help would come along or not, simply didn't seem like the kind of plan a man like Kris would come up with. Not just to dump a girl. Again he wondered whether or not Kris' memory loss was real. He was hiding something, but it just didn't add up.

  "Yeah, well, this guy is a Caucasian male, forty-seven, five-eleven, one eighty, light brown hair and brown eyes. Does that match the guy you've got? Oh yeah, he's supposedly an author, too." Harper waited for an answer.

  "Yeah," said Mitch. "That's him all right. One of the local women found him frozen half to death on a road by the river, all banged up. I took a look at the spot and I think his car went into the river. It was killer cold, though, and the ice froze over. We haven't recovered the car yet. He couldn't remember who he was when he woke up in the hospital. Had one name on his driver's license and another on a rental agreement in his pocket. Farmingham is the name on his license."

  "Well, that would explain why he hasn't gotten in touch with his girlfriend," said Harper. "I'm going to need to come up there and get a statement. How do I find you?"

  Mitch gave him directions and they agreed on
a time and date that Mitch would have Kris at the police station to give a statement.

  It wasn't until after they'd disconnected that Mitch realized he hadn't told the detective about the gunshot wound.

  And ... he hadn't gotten Harper's number either.

  * * *

  Lulu rolled over and molded her body to Kris' side. Both were still breathing hard from a two hour bout of lovemaking. It was Lulu's day off again and she had used it for what she thought of as catching up a little on what she'd been missing for years.

  "Well, I know it turns you on when I wear slinky underwear," she sighed. She didn't usually wear stuff like that, but, just this once, she had decided to try it. She'd borrowed a teddy from Jessica, along with a garter belt, and she'd bought a pair of dark thigh-high nylons. She was glad she had, because his reaction had been all she could have hoped for. He was always crazy to get her naked, but she took special glee in hearing him saying how sorry he was when he climaxed within a minute of entering her. She didn't care that she didn't get to have her own on those occasions. She knew he'd make it up to her later. She just loved it that she could drive a man that crazy.

  "So ... what else turns you on?" she asked, kissing his left peck.

  "Anything you do," he sighed.

  "Come on," she chided, trying to pinch the skin on his stomach. There wasn't much to pinch.

  "Okay," he said, turning his face to her. "You already know I love a woman being shaved down there. I've always been an ass man and yours drives me nuts." He took a breath and the hand attached to the arm under her found her butt cheeks and squeezed.

  "What else?" she asked.

  "I'd like to get you naked and then paint with our bodies as we make love."

  "What?" She laughed.

  "You know, create art while we're creating love. Get all covered in paint and then roll around on a big sheet of paper or something. I think that would be a blast."

  "Mmmm, I like that idea," she purred. "Please, go on."

  "I love it that you're willing to try different things ... like different positions and stuff," he said. "It turns me on that you're intelligent too."

  "Why thank you," she said, reaching for his prick. It was soft, so she just played with it.

  "I get off when you tease me and I like to tease you too. Anticipation is something that really gets me going."

  "Hard to believe that," she said, squeezing his penis. "Every time you come over here, you have me in bed within ten minutes. That's not very much anticipation time." She grinned.

  "It's not always like that," he complained. "Sometimes Ambrose is awake."

  "I know, silly," she said. "I was just teasing you."

  "I love it when you tease me," he said promptly.

  "Is there anything you love that we haven't already done?"

  "Dozens of things," he said. "I just haven't thought of them yet."

  "Well think of them," she said.

  "I think I'm a bit of an exhibitionist," he said. "Either that or I like women who are. I know I like women who show lots of their body in public. It makes me want to fondle them."

  "You'd better not!" she warned, gripping his balls.

  "What I mean is that if you and I were in public, and you were showing off a little, I'd want to touch you ... where people could maybe see it. You know, be a little naughty in public?"

  "Hmmm," she said. "We'll see about that too. What else?"

  "I can't think of anything else right now. I'll let you know when something turns me on. Now, it's my turn to ask questions."

  He rolled sideways and, instead of letting him ask his questions, she kissed him for a long time. Their tongues dueled gently with each other and she pressed her breasts to his chest. Her hand was still on his penis, which she rubbed against her vulva. Finally she pulled back.

  "Now you can ask me things."

  "What's your middle name?"

  She blinked. It was obvious she hadn't expected that kind of question.

  "It's Anne, you goob," she said. Her voice sounded careful, like she thought he might be playing a joke on her.

  He frowned and then his face relaxed.

  "Oh. I thought Lou Anne was one word."

  "Nope. My father wanted a boy. His name was Louis and he wanted a junior. Then I came along and he couldn't resist calling me Lou. My mother insisted on a feminine sounding middle name."

  "Fascinating," he said. "Tell me about your tattoos."

  "The one on my shoulder is the first one I got. I got it when I was fifteen. It was a Christmas present from my dad. He tried to psyche me out beforehand. He had tattoos and said it was going to hurt soooooooo much. I was so nervous I had to go to the bathroom when we got there because I thought I was going to throw up."

  "So, did it hurt?"

  "That one didn't hurt at all. It's based on some Brian Froud artwork. It's a fairy that looks like a flaming girl, bent at the waist, holding a globe behind her back."

  "She's naked," said Kris. "I can't believe your dad let you get a naked girl put on your arm when you were fifteen."

  "I knew I'd be running into you some day," said Lulu seriously. "I knew you'd like me naked."

  He grinned. "How about the one on your back?"

  "That one hurt like blazes. It was supposed to be colored in, but it was almost as bad as giving birth, so I stopped with just the outline. It's Mother Nature, and I got her when I was sixteen. That was another Christmas present from my dad."

  "She's naked too," he pointed out.

  "Are you complaining?"

  "Nope. No way. You're right. I love naked."

  "I got the one on my hip after I moved to Pembroke. It was the first one I paid for myself. The two kneeling girls represent Jess and me."

  "Really?"

  "We got identical tattoos in the same place. She's the best friend I've ever had, and I like to think she feels the same way about me."

  "I'd have to see hers to be sure it was identical to yours," he said.

  She slapped his shoulder.

  "Kidding!" he said, rubbing the spot.

  She brought her right wrist up and kissed the Rolling Stones mouth and tongue that was tattooed there.

  "This one is in honor of my dad. I got it after he died. My sister, my step-mom, and my dad's best friend all got identical ones."

  It was quiet for a moment as she thought about her father and he tried to remember his parents, wondering if they were still alive or not.

  Kris found himself staring at her flat belly and thought about all the lovemaking they'd done lately. He hadn't used any condoms and she hadn't asked him to. He reached to slide his hand over the skin under which her womb was.

  "And this IUD you have. How does that work?"

  "It's a five year model. I had it implanted right after Ambrose was born."

  "So it's nearing the end of its ... what do you call it? Shelf life?" He grinned. "No, that can't be right. Womb life?"

  "I have no idea what they call it," she said, ignoring his attempt at humor. "All I know is that I love it. I haven't had a period since it was implanted."

  "So ... how often have you ... um ... tested it?" he asked.

  "You're asking how many men I've slept with since I got it," she said, her voice calm.

  "Not if you don't want to tell me," he said.

  "Well, let me think," she said. She looked up and started raising fingers one by one. "There was ... and ... and of course ... " She looked back at him. "Maybe it would be easier just to multiply." She started waving her fingers in his face, like she was pointing at mental numbers. "Let's see ... uh huh ... carry the three ... " She stopped again. "No, it can't be that many. That isn't humanly possible. Math isn't my strong suit."

  His eyes had gotten wider and wider while she did all this. Then she giggled and pushed at him. "I've had one man since I got the implant. It was you. I don't want to talk about the man I got the implant because of. But he never touched me after Ambrose was born."

  "Sounds kind
of sad," said Kris softly.

  "It wasn't any fun," she sighed. "I was stupid. I should have used protection, but I was kicking up my heels and didn't think about that kind of thing."

  "Are you sorry you had him?"

  She looked shocked. "No! Never! He's everything to me. I don't know what I'd do without him."