by Temple Hogan
“Hansel and Gretel,” she replied serenely.
“But that witch wanted to eat them.”
“Well, you can’t eat me. Daddy won’t let you.” She wandered into the parlor.
Phil turned to Beck. “They let you take her without supervision?” she asked and at his nodded, observed. “That’s a step forward for you.”
“A big step.”
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze holding hers so intensely, all sorts of sensations flared to life. She wanted to throw off her clothes and roll on the floor with him, but of course, she couldn’t. He couldn’t, not with Emily in the very next room. A thought occurred to her that maybe that was why he’d brought her. He seemed to read her thoughts because he shuffled his feet and gazed at the floor. Color had crept up his neck from his collar.
“Look, about yesterday,” he began and shifted his weight.
“I enjoyed yesterday very much,” she said softly.
His head jerked up so their gazes collided. His eyes blazed with emotion.
“I did, too,” he answered, almost reluctantly and she wondered why.
“It had nothing to do with the accusations against you.”
“I know that. I’ve had time to think about what an ass I was.”
“Yes.” She smiled to soften her words. “I forgive you.”
His smile was quick and spontaneous then faded. “I just don’t want you to suffer from your association with me.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know how people can be—”
“Yes, I do. I know the things they whisper about me and my sisters in town.” Then she couldn’t resist turning the tables on him. “Maybe that was the reason for yesterday. You wondered what it would be like to get it on with a witch.”
“What does ‘get it on’ mean?” a piping voice asked and they turned to find Emily standing in the doorway, clutching an old ragdoll that had always been Phil’s favorite.
“Where did you find that?” Phil asked with a touch of asperity. “Did you go up to my bedroom?”
“Uh huh,” Emily admitted, swinging her sturdy little body back and forth as if suddenly uncertain about her actions.
“Emily, you know better than that,” Beck said reproachfully. “Apologize to Phil and give her back her doll.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said instantly then smiled. “I like your house, and I was just looking for a toy to play with. Can I play with Trudy, if I’m very careful? Please.”
“Why did you call her Trudy?”
Emily giggled. “Because that’s her name? Didn’t you know that?”
“The question is how did you know that?” Phil asked.
“Because she told me,” the girl replied. “Can I play with her?”
“Not now, Em. We have to go. I have to get that stuff unloaded.”
“Can I stay here while you do that?” Emily wheedled.
Beck looked at Phil. “Would you mind?”
“No, of course not,” Phil said, although she really did. It wouldn’t be for long, she consoled herself and besides Emily’s radiant smile made Phil think she could endure her presence for the short time it would take Beck to unload his truck.
When he’d been reassured about leaving his daughter in Phil’s care and had left, she had a moment of panic. She had no idea what to do with a child or how to occupy one. Emily solved that problem. She took a seat at the table and said primly.
“You’re supposed to offer me cookies and milk.” She sat staring at Phil with Beck’s blue eyes.
“I don’t have any milk and cookies,” she said shortly.
“Everyone has milk and cookies,” Emily said sternly, her eyebrows pulled down in rebuke.
Phil couldn’t help feeling a mite intimidated, but that was crazy. She was a witch in control of nearly everything and this was a four-year old child.
“Are you sure you’re a kid?” she asked crossly.
“What else would I be?” Emily answered, occupying herself with straightening Trudy’s old-fashioned dress and yarn hair.
“You could be a gremlin or a munchkin or another witch.”
Emily laughed. Phil took the distraction to nod her head at a cupboard, then with great ceremony, she opened the door and pulled out a package of cookies, which she produced with a flourish. Emily looked them over. Phil crossed to the fridge to pour a glass of milk from a container that hadn’t been there thirty seconds before.
“Don’t you have homemade cookies?” Emily inquired, staring at the package dubiously.
“Who makes cookies?” Phil snapped.
“My grandma makes them all the time, and they’re much better than the ones you buy at the store,” Emily said as if reciting a much-quoted line.
“How would you know if you haven’t tried them?” Phil demanded.
“That’s what my grandma says, and she never lies.”
“Sometimes adults lie.”
“Not my grandma, she never lies.” The impossible child drew her brows down and glared at Phil.
“Well, maybe she didn’t lie, but maybe she just didn’t know herself.”
“She knows everything.”
They were at an impasse. Phil sighed. How had she ever gotten into an argument with a four year old, moreover, an argument that she was losing?
“I’ll check in the cookie jar,” Phil said and turned to a fat gargoyle jar that usually held the detritus she normally didn’t want to deal with. Reaching in, she pulled out a ginger cookie and put it on a plate. Emily was watching her sharply.
“Only one cookie?” she asked. “I like two.”
“One is all I have,” Phil snapped. “Don’t be impolite.”
“I’m sorry.” Emily’s response surprised Phil.
“That’s okay,” she said grudgingly.
Then wondered how she could make up to the diminutive version of Beck for her grouchiness. She remembered tea parties she’d once had with her sisters, in their playroom, with the door closed and moms preoccupied elsewhere.
“Would you like to go to a witch’s tea party?” she asked. Emily’s eyes widened. “It’s very secret and you must never tell a soul about it. Otherwise, witches everywhere will be angry with you and you’ll never be allowed at another.”
“I won’t say anything, I promise,” Emily whispered.
Phil snapped her finger and suddenly the table rose into the air along with Emily and her chair. Another snap brought a proper linen tablecloth and cups of tea and plates of cakes and cookies. Phil rose and took her seat.
“Close your mouth Emily. It’s impolite to gape.”
Emily snapped her mouth shut.
Phil smiled in approval. “That’s better.”
She sipped her tea. Emily followed suit. Laughter and a silly light-hearted conversation followed. Phil found herself warming to the girl even if she were a child. Her eyes narrowed as she considered Emily.
“Tell me about your mother, Emily,” she invited and the festive mood vanished.
“She’s dead,” the girl said in a trembling voice. Phil waited. “Grandma says daddy killed her, but I don’t believe that. I think a bad man did it, but daddy’s not bad.”
“I agree,” Phil said. “Do you have any idea who the bad man is?”
Emily nodded her head, her cookie momentarily forgotten.
“There were a lot of bad men,” she solemnly. “They were cranky and yelled at me if I came into the room when they were visiting, so even mommy said bad things about me when they were there.”
Phil’s heart constricted at the pain and confusion on Emily’s face.
“Mommy didn’t like me when her friends were there.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure she did. Mommies love their little girls.”
“That’s what daddy said.”
Phil imagined Beck trying to comfort his daughter and changed the subject. “Do you remember any of the bad men who came to see your mother?”
Emily shook her head. “They only c
ame a couple of times. The last time one of them came, he was especially mean. He hurt mommy and yelled at her. She was crying and when she saw me, she yelled at me to run away to Sally’s house. The man chased me, but I was too fast for him, so he went back into the house.”
“Is that when your mommy got hurt?” Phil asked urgently.
Slowly, the little girl nodded.
“What the hell—” came an exclamation from below.
Instantly, Phil nodded her head and the table and their chairs settled back in place on the kitchen floor.
Beck stood rubbing his eyes. “Did I just see what I think I saw?” he asked.
“Probably not,” Phil said tersely.
Emily giggled. “We had tea on the ceiling, daddy. It was so much fun.”
Beck stared at Phil questioningly.
She shrugged and smiled. “I warned you,” she said softly.
“I thought you were just kidding or…or…”
“Fantasizing?”
“Something like that.”
“Don’t tell grandma, daddy,” Emily said. “She won’t let me come again if she knows Phil’s a witch.”
“No, I won’t say a word,” he muttered. “I’d better get you home, our time is nearly up. Say goodbye to Phil.”
Dutifully, Emily repeated his words then ran to throw her arms around Phil’s legs. “I love you, Philomena,” she said and held her face up for a kiss.
Phil bent and felt the soft butterfly brush of a kiss on her cheek. Something melted inside her. She stood with her hand pressed to her cheek as Beck urged Emily to the door.
“I’ll be right back. We have to talk,” he said before closing the door behind him.
Phil just stood savoring the moment of Beck and Emily’s presence. Something was wakening inside her and it brought such joy as she’d never experienced before.
True to his word, Beck returned in a short time. He entered the kitchen and stood watching as she set the table and produced the makings for sandwiches.
“I thought you might be hungry,” she said. Their gazes met and held.
“I am,” he answered with such hot intensity that she felt herself blush. “But I want to talk first.”
Her blush faded. She settled into a chair and waited. He seemed a little uncertain about how to begin. Finally, he seated himself across from her.
“Tell me again about you being a witch.”
“I am.”
“And your sisters?”
“Yes, both of them.”
“Your mother?”
“Nooo.” Suddenly she wasn’t so sure. She’d never asked herself that question before. Since Claire was so against the use of special powers, Phil had assumed she wasn’t a witch, but now she wondered.
“I don’t think she is,” she amended.
“So what do you do as a witch, besides eat on the ceiling and throw your boyfriend out the front door?”
“Oh, you noticed that.”
“I didn’t understand what had happened until on the drive back here. A lot of things began to fall into place.”
“I tried to tell you.” Phil looked at him, suddenly thinking he might not want to continue an intimate relationship with a witch.
“You did, indeed,” he said. “So what I want to know is if you’re the wicked witch of the West or the good witch of the East as Emily thinks.”
“I’m a good witch, well, mostly.”
Beck looked at her solemnly. She waited, uncertain, until a quiver of his lips turned into an outright grin.
“By damn, a witch,” he said, almost in awe. “I’ve never bedded a witch before.”
“Well?” she dared to ask with a touch of impudence.
“The best experience of my life,” he said softly and jumped to his feet. He grabbed her out of her seat and wrapped her in his arms. “You’ll have to guide me through this. I’m not sure what’s expected of me.”
“More of the same,” she said and raised her face to his.
His lips brushed across hers, teasing, exploring, demanding. She leaned against him, feeling the strength of his body. Deep inside heat built.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered against her mouth.
“Okay.” She nodded and immediately they were in her bedroom.
“Whoa, how did you do that?”
“I’m not sure,” Phil said, “but it’s a lot faster than taking the stairs.”
Beck stared at her as if just now seeing her for the first time. She whirled around, gave him a come hither look over her shoulder then appeared in a low cut, diaphanous peignoir.
“You don’t need that,” he said.
She finished her turn and smiled knowingly. The gown had disappeared and she stood before him completely nude. Strands of blonde hair floated around her head then settled over her shoulder, one lock curving lovingly around a nipple.
“You’re dazzling,” he whispered harshly and reached for her.
She went into his arms willingly. His kisses were hot, insistent. She flicked his clothes away so he was as naked as she. The feel of his skin against her burning nipples made her gasp with anticipation. He cupped her buttocks and lifted her then lowered her onto his hard cock. She slid onto him, moaning as his hot shaft pierced her channel. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she wriggled against him and felt him further stiffen with desire.
“You’re incredible,” he murmured and tightened his grip, snaring her so she could do nothing but move with him as, still standing, he pumped against her.
Her body thrummed with a mounting passion. No longer a part of this world, she clung to him, feeling his cock push deeper and deeper. With every thrust he touched the core of her desire. She felt a scream build inside her, sensed it mounting. All muscle and bone within her melted so she was only a sensation of wanting and needing.
She was reaching for the gold ring, the final prize, the culmination that would end all need for another. When it came, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. As if from a great distance, she heard Beck’s hoarse shout and felt his hot semen pumping into her. They held each other as Beck carried her to the bed and fell onto it with her still wrapped in his arms. They were still connected, and she thought nothing would ever tear them apart. Humming with satisfaction, she relaxed against him and dozed.
Sometime later, she woke up to the feel of large warm hands caressing her breasts then a hot mouth settled on a nipple while one hand skimmed over her body and settled on her mound. His fingers parted her lips and brushed against her clitoris in a circular motion that instantly awakened her libido. She moaned and opened her legs wider while his finger dipped inside, caressing her channel before returning to stroke her bud.
He suckled each nipple then rose above her and bent to place his mouth against her clit. She jerked at the heat of his lips, automatically clamping her legs tight against his head before relaxing again. It wasn’t that she hadn’t had oral sex before, but all too often it went the other way. Few men liked to give what they demanded for themselves and fewer still made it so fantastic. She couldn’t move. She was pinned to the bed by Beck’s wicked mouth. Tossing her head from side to side, she concentrated on breathing and on the growing needs he aroused.
When she came, she screamed with ecstasy and rolled into a ball unable to endure any more sensations, but then he turned her onto her back, raised her legs over his shoulders and entered her weeping channel. As devastating and thorough as his oral sex had been, the feel of his hot cock was the final and best of their joining. Immediately, she felt her climax come on and felt the pulsating force of his culmination. High with sexual gratification, she lay against him, whimpering her satisfaction and he cradled her in his arms until sleep claimed them.
Chapter Seven
“You actually went to J&B’s bar?” Beck stared at her. “What the hell were you doing there?”
They were lazing in bed. Full darkness had fallen outside and they had been trying to decide whether to go down to the kitchen for a snack. Wit
hout actually discussing it, they seemed to have settled on the fact that Beck would spend the night. How they’d gotten to the subject of Phil’s sleuthing, she wasn’t sure, but she was glad for a chance to question him. She needed more information from him if she was going to be effective.
“I was trying to find out who killed Diane. You didn’t do it so it had to be someone, maybe someone she met at the bar, one of her—” She hesitated, not wanting to say something that would hurt him.
“One of her lovers?” he asked. “I think the police checked all that out.”
“Maybe they missed something. Do you know the names of the men she had affairs with?”
His face took on a stoic look, not so much of pain but of old sorrows.
“I don’t know the names of all the men she was with, but the first one was Jared Richards. He’s kind of a man around town. His wife left him a long time ago because he was such a stud. He didn’t seem bothered by it much. The divorce just gave him more freedom.”
“Who else?” Phil asked, kneeling to face him.
“Junior Boniface was another. He has a terrible temper and has gotten himself into some trouble but his family has mo—”
“Money. I know,” she said quickly. “He’s not a particularly attractive man in looks or personality.”
“With money you don’t need the other,” Beck said bitterly.
“Next,” she said hastily.
“Joey Strada.”
“I don’t know him.”
“He owns a carwash and is known to deal in drugs and money laundering. An all-around bad guy.”
“He might be a suspect,” Phil said, tapping her chin in thought. “Anyone else?”
“Douglas Hughes.”
“Why him? He has a beautiful wife and two children.”
“I think she slept with him just to prove she could.” Beck sighed. “There was another guy she picked up by the name of Rudy Tobias. He wasn’t her type, but near the end, she got less choosey. He did a lot of bragging after she was killed. The police checked him out and said he had an alibi when it came right down to it.”
“Is that all?” Phil asked gently.
“All I can remember,” Beck said tightly. “By that time, I no longer cared who she slept with.”
