Nine-tenths of the Law

by L. A. Witt

  Before long, the rain came. First a few drops, just enough to sneak down the back of my neck like cold sweat. Then more, crashing onto the pavement with enough of a roar to nearly drown out the thunder.

  Clasping my hand, Nathan quickened his pace, but I pulled him back. I’d waited a long, long time for this opportunity.

  He looked at me, puzzled. Water ran from his hair down the sides of his face, and he squinted a little to keep it out of his eyes. A drop disappeared beneath his collar, making both of us shiver. The only thing that could have possibly turned me on any more was to find out if the rain tasted the same on his lips as it did on my own.

  He tugged gently on my hand and shouted over the thunder and rain. “We’re only a couple blocks away. We should hurry back.”

  “Why rush?” I asked. Before he could respond, I put my free hand on the side of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. His body tensed at first, as if the rain made the kiss impossible to comprehend, but seconds later, the warmth of his hand interrupted the stream of cold water rushing through my hair and down my neck.

  The wind picked up a little, snapping against our wet clothes and skin, but my shivers came from somewhere else and had nothing to do with the cold weather. His cologne mingled with ozone and rain and the faint hint of smoke. I pulled him closer, grasping whatever clothes my numb, shaking hands could get hold of.

  He broke the kiss and looked at me, but the earlier confusion in his expression was long gone. Streetlights and the occasional flicker of lightning illuminated his eyes. There was still disbelief in his face, but it wasn’t the kind of disbelief that asked, “Why the hell are we doing this?” Without uttering a word, he said, loud and clear, “What the hell was that?”

  His lips moved, but his voice was lost in another roll of thunder. Before I could ask him to repeat it, he kissed me again, rain-cooled fingers tangling in my hair and sharp huffs of breath warming my face as we pulled each other closer.

  When he broke the kiss this time, his forehead rested against mine, one hand cupping the side of my face, our mouths so close that, with a deep enough breath, I could have drawn him right back to me. His chin came forward, his lips brushing mine once, backing away, then barely touching mine again.

  Finally he managed to stay back long enough to speak. “We should get back to the house.” His voice barely rose above the cacophony of rain and the blood pounding in my ears.

  Brushing my thumb across his cheekbone, shivering at the cool water running down the back of my arm, I kissed him lightly. With a playful grin, I said, “I don’t know, we could just-” I cut myself off with another kiss, longer this time. “We could-” Yet another kiss. Forget being witty or trying to tease him. We both knew what we both wanted, and we sure as hell couldn’t do it here. The longer we stood here, the longer he kissed me like that, the less likely we were to make it back to his place before one of us dragged the other into an alley again. That had worked that night because all we’d needed was a quickie.

  Tonight, a quickie wasn’t even close to what I needed.

  We separated again, but I couldn’t speak, especially not with his lips still so close to mine. A single raindrop slid down his face and stopped for a second, suspended in the tiny space between his upper lip and mine, before falling onto the tip of my tongue just before I kissed him again.

  “Let’s go,” he murmured against my lips. “Now.”

  I nodded and we separated. It was tempting to let just one more kiss linger for just one more minute, but we were too wound up to stop if we started again. We’d already pushed the very limits of my restraint, and God only knew how much control he had left. Judging by the way he closed his eyes and shuddered as his body broke contact with mine, not much.

  We exchanged one last look, then continued up the sidewalk with the sky coming down all around us, and I sent up a silent prayer that this storm didn’t let up anytime soon.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  By the time we made it back to Nathan’s house, we were both soaked to the skin and horny as hell. We poured ourselves through the door, stumbling over feet and rain-saturated clothes, struggling with buttons and buckles. My fingers were numb, my hands were shaking, and my skin was wet, but I managed to get his shirt unbuttoned enough to pull it over his head.

  Shoes and wet clothes littered the floor behind us as we inched toward the stairs. We made half-assed efforts to get our clothes somewhere in the vicinity of the laundry room, but that required going out of our way, taking us farther from the bedroom, and that was simply not an option. Not now.

  Rain pounded the roof and thunder shook the windows, the storm getting more violent by the minute. Beneath our feet, the stairs thrummed with every roll of thunder. Flashes of lightning lit up the hallway and the bedroom, reflecting off wet hair and Nathan’s desperate, hungry eyes.

  The bed was warm against my skin, but it was nothing compared to the feverish heat of Nathan’s body. Whenever he exhaled against my neck, his cool breath tempered that warmth just as the rain had, but with a brush of his fingertips, the heat returned like a glowing ember flaring back to life.

  His sharp breaths cooled, his touch heated, and his presence intoxicated. I couldn’t tell where my arousal from the storm ended and my need for him began.

  He rested his weight on his elbow and reached between us. “I don’t know what gave you the idea of kissing like that out there,” he said, closing his fingers around my cock. “But I have never been so fucking turned on in my life.”

  “Seemed like-” I damn near whimpered as he stroked and squeezed just hard enough to take my breath away. “Seemed like it would be hot.”

  “Oh, it was,” he growled, bending to kiss my neck. “Jesus Christ, it was.” A tremor ran through him, making his hand falter slightly. “Everything we do is fucking hot,” he whispered. “But this…my God, Zach, I’m so…” He nudged his hips against me, his rock-hard cock pressing into my leg. “I can’t tell you how many times I almost lost it while we were still out there.”

  I couldn’t tell if the white light flickering at the edges of my vision was lightning, or just the first sparks of an orgasm, or both. All I could do was close my eyes and try to will myself to beg for more.

  “Keep…” My eyes rolled back and my back arched. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop…”

  “Oh, my God,” he whispered, his voice shaking as if he were the one on the brink. “Jesus, Zach, you are…” His voice trailed off and his rhythm faltered again, but I was so far gone, so close to coming, so-

  His tongue ran around the head of my cock once, then twice, and I came so hard I thought my entire body had levitated off the bed. I was vaguely aware of my own voice vibrating in my throat, but had no idea what, if anything, I said. Something coherent started to form in my mind, working its way from thought to speech, but then Nathan’s mouth was over mine and I neither knew nor cared what I’d been about to say.

  “I have got to fuck you,” he said, the desperation in his voice reverberating through every nerve ending in my body just like the thunder outside. “Please.”

  Speech was lost on me, so I simply nodded. Nathan reached-no, lunged-for the nightstand and grabbed a condom out of the drawer. Lightning flashed and a second later, thunder rumbled, but the sound was lost behind my pounding heart.

  Nathan sat up and guided his cock to me, pushing in slowly. As he did, he groaned as if already on the edge of an orgasm. Once he was all the way inside me, he shuddered once, pausing to take a deep breath, then withdrew and pushed back in, gaining speed with every stroke.

  Each flash of lightning illuminated Nathan’s face for a fleeting second, burning every momentary image into my mind like a still from an old black-and-white film. Flash. His eyes screwed shut and his lips parted as his entire body rose above me with a powerful upstroke. Flash. Grimacing like he was somewhere between pain and pleasure as he thrust a little faster. Flash. Throwing his head back just as he released a roar that drowned out the thunder.
<
br />   He collapsed over me and his body shuddered against mine as the world seemed to shudder around us.

  After a while, he raised his head and kissed me as I ran my fingers through his sweat- and rain-dampened hair.

  “I never realized thunder was an aphrodisiac,” he said, slurring slightly.

  “Could’ve been a coincidence.” I grinned at him. “Maybe we were just horny as hell and there happened to be a storm.”

  A warm breath of laughter rippled across my collarbone. He kissed my neck and said, “Well, there’s only one way to test that theory.”

  “Which is?”

  “Next time there’s a thunderstorm,” he murmured against my skin, working his way up my neck kiss by kiss. “We go out…” Kissed just below by ear. “…we get caught in it…” He nipped my earlobe. “…and see if this happens again.”

  A roll of thunder and the gentle touch of Nathan’s lips made me shiver. “And if it doesn’t?”

  “You’ll be there.” He kissed me. “I’ll be there.” Another kiss, longer this time. “Of course it’ll happen.”

  When he kissed me again, I knew the storm outside would be over long, long before we were finished tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Thanks to Dylan’s aggressive advertising campaign and a great deal of word of mouth from customers, The Epidauran’s lobby was packed with people on the first day of the Indie Short Festival. The line in front of the box office went down the sidewalk and around the corner. The concession stand could barely keep up.

  With one auditorium down thanks to that damned projector, showings sold out even faster. Each showing was a three-hour collection of short independent films with an intermission in the middle, and by the third showing, Dylan and I had to call employees in on their days off to keep up.

  “We have got to get that projector up and running,” Dylan said as we watched the crowd clear out after the second matinee showing. “If we’re this slammed on a Friday, then you know Saturday and Sunday are going to be insane.”

  I let out a breath. “I know.”

  “Think you can fix it?”

  “Possibly,” I muttered. “I might be able to pencil it in after turning the water into wine.”

  Dylan glared at me. “Be serious.”

  “I am being serious,” I said. “That thing is completely fubar.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “It’s what?”

  “Fubar.” He gave me a blank look and I said, “Fucked up beyond all repair.”

  Turning his attention back to the lobby as the last of the crowd funneled out through the glass doors, he scowled and said, “Well, if anyone can fix it, it’s you.”

  “It’ll have to wait until after the late showings. Unless you don’t mind me disappearing and leaving you to handle all of this for the rest of the day.”

  “If it means having another auditorium open tomorrow,” he said, grimacing as we watched the next flood of customers squeeze in from outside. “I’ll deal with it. Go.”

  “You sure?”

  “If I need you, I’ll come get you.”

  “Dylan, are-”

  “Go.” He pointed at the projector-room door.

  I shrugged and headed upstairs, secretly glad to be away from the chaos. I was thrilled that we were so busy, selling out showing after showing, but being in the middle of it was exhausting.

  In the projector room, I paused, eyeing the stubborn machine that was probably going to be the death of me.

  Go ahead, it seemed to say. Just try to make me work.

  “Oh, hey, boss,” Max said, scrambling to look busy. He quickly put his feet, which had been resting on the windowsill, on the floor and shoved his comic book out of sight. Clearing his throat, he said, “Gonna try to fix that thing?”

  I nodded and pulled my toolbox out from under the table with my foot. “Figured I should get something working up here.” I eyed him, and he gulped nervously, but I let it go. Max was a good kid. He could be lazy, just as most of my employees could, but all it took was one patented Zach Owens Evil Stare and he’d be on his best behavior for a few days. That comic book probably wouldn’t move from its hiding place for a week, until he decided to try to get away with something again.

  “So, uh, seems like things are pretty busy this weekend,” he said, craning his neck and watching people file into the center auditorium.

  “That’s the idea of a film festival.” I opened my toolbox and seriously considered pulling out a hammer and making sure the projector never caused me any grief again, but eventually settled on actually trying to fix it. Part of me wondered if there was any point to this. As far as I could tell, the thing had gone to the Other Side and wasn’t fixable. But Dylan was right, it was worth a try.

  As I reached for a Philips screwdriver, my cell phone vibrated on my belt.

  It was a text from Nathan. How’s the festival going?

  Better than expected, I wrote back. Probably have to make it four days next year.

  Great! A few minutes later, Going to have time to grab something to eat later?

  Doubt it. Will probably be concession-stand diving all weekend.

  The phone was silent for ten or fifteen minutes. I guessed he was busy with a client or co-worker, and it gave me a chance to make a little headway on the projector. Right about the time I was ready to ask Max for a little help with some percussive maintenance, my phone vibrated again.

  Want me to bring something by later?

  I pursed my lips and looked at the message for a moment. As much as I wanted him to come by, there just wouldn’t be time for me to stop and eat with him. As it was, we had a hell of a time working in state-mandated breaks for the employees this weekend. I just couldn’t justify taking more than a few minutes away unless it was to fix this projector. Even my sporadic text messages made me feel a bit guilty.

  I sighed and typed, Don’t think I’ll have time. Wish I did.

  I can drop something off for you. Let me know.

  My mouth watered at the very thought of something other than concession-stand crap. That, and if it gave me a chance to see him, even for just a few minutes…

  I quickly sent back, I’ll owe you big time if you do.

  We made plans for him to come by around seven thirty, and I went to work on the projector. After a great deal of swearing and mentally tallying how much creative budgeting it would take to just buy a new projector, it was as close to fixed as it would ever be.

  Gritting my teeth and murmuring prayers to a few different deities, I put my finger on the power switch. Feeling a little like Dr. Frankenstein, hoping the thing would come to life this time, I flipped the switch. To my relief and surprise, it did come to life, clicking and whirring like it was supposed to.

  I almost laughed aloud. “No way. No fucking way.”

  “Is it working?” Max looked up from the other side of the room.

  “I think.” I paused, squinting through the window to see how the picture looked on the screen in the empty auditorium. “I’ll be damned, I think it is.”

  “The question is,” Max said, “will it keep working?”

  “Shh, don’t jinx it. It’s working now. With any luck, it’ll keep working and we can use it tomorrow.” I watched the screen for a moment longer. “Run it through this film, then play it again. Let me know if it craps out again.”

  Max nodded. “Will do.”

  With the projector running, I left the room and headed down to the office to let Dylan know that the beast was alive.

  “Hey, the-” I paused when he looked up from rifling through some papers. Bank deposits and till summaries, by the looks of it. “What’s all that?”

  He shook his head and closed the folder. “Nothing, just crunching some numbers. What’s up?”

  I eyed the folder-Dylan didn’t usually bother with the tedium of numbers, particularly when we were this busy-but didn’t question him. “The projector’s working.”

  “Oh, thank Christ,” he said, leaning
back in his chair. “Question is-”

  “I have no idea if it’ll keep working.”

  He scowled. “It’s definitely time for a new one.”

  “It was time for a new one when Reagan was still in office,” I said, chuckling as I dropped into my chair and put my feet up. “We’ll have to figure out the budget, but I think we’ll manage.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he grumbled. He shot the folder on his desk a dirty look, then looked at the clock and stood. “Two back-to-back intermissions coming up. Let’s go.”

  I groaned and put my feet down. No rest for the wicked, I thought as I followed him out of the office.

  As the evening wore on, the swill at the concession stand smelled better and better. Around seven, I realized I hadn’t even remembered to eat lunch.

  Then, like an angel of culinary mercy, Nathan showed up with takeout from one of the nearby Thai restaurants.

  “Oh, my God, I could kiss you right now,” I said as he walked in with the plastic bag and a couple of drinks.

  He grinned. “Please do.”

  I gestured for him to follow me. “Let’s go someplace where I don’t have to stay quite so professional, and I will.”

  As soon as we were in my office, I made good on my promise. I intended to kiss him only briefly, just enough to flirt a little and maybe wind him up, but then I needed to taste him just a second longer. Then I didn’t want his fingers out of my hair. When I caught myself seriously considering finding a quiet, hidden place in the theatre, I forced myself to pull away. I knew a few such quiet, hidden places, and I couldn’t afford to give in to that temptation on a busy night like this.

  Come by on a slow night, Nathan, and I’ll give you the real tour of The Epidauran.

  “So I assume you like Thai food?” he said, nodding toward the food on the desk.