by Judith Gould
Teddy was on his knees between her widespread legs. When she opened her eyes, Valerie could see, even in the dim candlelight, that his mouth was wet and red from his enjoyment of her most secret place. She could also see his engorged manhood poised to enter her, and she shivered with anticipation.
A sudden clap of thunder so near and loud that it seemed to shake the entire house roared in their ears but didn't distract them from one another. As he plunged into her, she gasped. Her sounds of delight were drowned out by the drumming of the intense rain as it hit the windows and French doors that surrounded the room on three sides. The draperies whipped in the wind, and some of the candles were abruptly blown out by the powerful gusts, but they ignored them, so intent were they on giving one another pleasure.
He rode her and rode her, withdrawing and hesitating before plunging in again and again, each time more ruthless than the last, bringing her to a frenzy of desire and need for him, until she suddenly cried out.
Her body began to spasm as she climaxed beneath him, and Teddy became a man possessed, plunging ever more furiously until he let out a bellow, the cords in his neck standing out, his body convulsing on hers as his seed burst forth, filling her to overflowing.
He collapsed atop her, wrapping her in his arms, quickly peppering kisses on her forehead, cheeks, nose, eyes, and lips, all the while his chest heaving against her breasts as he gasped for breath. Valerie held on to him tightly, absorbed in the moment, unwilling to let it go just yet.
At last they lay on their sides, facing one another, their bodies coated with a sheen of perspiration. He was still inside her, and she enjoyed the feel of him there.
Teddy kissed her tenderly, then drew back slightly, staring into her eyes. "That was so wonderful," he whispered. "So perfect."
Val nodded. "Oh, yes," she said. "It was heaven, Teddy." She breathed a long sigh of contentment, and he pulled her closer to him.
The rain beat a steady tattoo against the windows and doors, and for the first time Teddy looked up and noticed that the wind, still gusting powerfully, had made sails out of the long, silk curtains, blowing them out into the room.
"I guess I ought to get up and close the doors and windows," Teddy said. "But I don't want to move."
She hugged him tightly. "Then don't," she said. "Stay right where you are. You feel wonderful."
He kissed her with renewed passion, running a hand up her back and then on down to her buttocks, where he stroked gently, slowly pulling her against him.
Valerie could feel his cock begin to swell inside her, filling her with its might. A moan escaped her lips, and Teddy began to move his pelvis in a lazy rhythm, enjoying the look of pleasure on her face, relishing the power he had over her. Gently he moved, and slowly, slowly, slowly, until he heard another barely audible moan of pleasure. He rolled them both over then, with his body spread out atop hers, his manhood still in her, teasing her, drawing out the—
Suddenly there was a beep, a terrible shrill-sounding beep like a car alarm.
Valerie jerked upright into a sitting position. When Teddy tried to ease her back down onto the bed, she said firmly, "No, Teddy, that's my pager. I have to—"
His mouth went over hers, determined to keep her quiet, but she shook her head from side to side. "No," she rasped. She struggled to get out from under him. "Let me up, Teddy," she cried. "Let me up, goddamn it! Now!"
Reluctantly he backed off, letting her leap free to pick up her pager. It was obviously the service beeping her to call in. She grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table and snapped it open.
"Dr. Rochelle," she said in a professional voice.
From his position on the tangled bed, Teddy listened to her end of the conversation, looking up at her with a mixture of disappointment and disgust. Becoming increasingly frustrated and angry, he jammed a fist into a pillow, then leapt up off the bed and marched around the room, noisily slamming the French doors and windows shut. When he was finished, he stood arms akimbo and feet planted wide apart, glaring at her. Then he turned and stomped into the bathroom, slamming that door behind him.
When her conversation with the service was finished, Valerie punched in the telephone number they'd given her. Her call was picked up on the first ring.
"Dr. Rochelle," she said.
"Dr. Rochelle," a man said, "this is Santo Ducci at Stonelair. We have a sick horse out here, and we wondered if you could come take a look."
"I'll be there in about fifteen or twenty minutes."
"Thanks a lot," the man said.
Valerie pressed the end button and quickly placed her cell phone in the big leather and canvas carryall that went everywhere with her. She walked over to the bathroom door. She hesitated a moment before tapping on it.
There was no response, and she knocked a little louder. "Teddy?" she said. "I'm really sorry, but. . . well, you know this comes with the territory." There was still no response, and she knocked again. "Teddy?"
She started to open the door when it suddenly swung open.
He stood there, still naked . . . and so handsome, she thought, a smile on his lips that exposed his perfect white teeth. "Come here," he said, holding his arms out. Before Valerie could move, he stepped forward and hugged her to him.
"I'm the one who's sorry," he whispered. "I... I shouldn't have reacted that way, but I wanted this to be a perfect weekend for us." He drew back and looked into her eyes. "Forgive me?" he said in a little boy voice. "Please?"
Valerie couldn't help but smile, even though she found his behavior immature and inconsiderate. She'd become inured to Teddy's little temper tantrums. He was a spoiled rich boy who couldn't tolerate not getting his way.
She planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Forget about it," she said, ruffling his hair with her fingertips. "I'm sorry, too, but I've got to go."
She rushed to the closet, where she grabbed a pair of Levis, a T-shirt, and a white lab coat. Tossing them on a chair, she rifled through a dresser until she found bra, panties, and socks. She began dressing hurriedly as Teddy stood watching her.
"What's up?" he asked. "Somebody's pooch miscarry or something?"
She thought she detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but she chose to ignore it. "There's an emergency out at Stonelair," she replied.
"Stonelair?" he said, his eyes widening. "You're not going out there, are you?"
"Yes," she said, grabbing a pair of sneakers from the closet floor.
"Since when did you start working for that creepy drug lord?"
"Since now," she replied, pulling on her socks.
"Je-sus, Val!" he cried, his voice angry. "Isn't that a little stupid? Maybe even a little dangerous, huh?" He stood staring at her, his body rigid, his eyes bright with intensity.
She finished tying her sneakers, then got to her feet, grabbing her carryall and slinging it over her shoulder in one swift movement.
"Look, Teddy," she said in a determined voice, "I don't know anything about the people at Stonelair, and neither do you. I just know that there's a horse out there that's in trouble, and I've got to go take care of it. It's my duty as a veterinarian."
"But-but. . . you don't even know what the hell's going on out there, Val," he sputtered. "I mean, those people could have a drug lab set up or—"
"I don't care what's going on out there," she broke in angrily. "There's a sick horse and I'm going to it. And I'm going now."
As she started for the bedroom door, Teddy rushed to her, throwing his long, muscular arms around her. "Just a quick kiss," he said, all sweetness again.
She turned to him and let him kiss her, then pulled away. "I'm in a hurry, Teddy."
"I know, I know," he said agreeably, nodding. "So go. Go." He slapped her playfully on the butt.
Valerie headed out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the staircase.
"Val?" he called as she reached the top of the stairs.
She quickly glanced back toward the bedroom door, where he stood, his tall, strong body fi
lling the doorway.
"I'll be here waiting for you," he said, one hand shaking his penis at her.
Valerie sputtered helplessly with laughter. "Oh, you," she laughed, then hurried on down the stairs and out into the dark and stormy night.
Chapter Two
Valerie drove like a woman possessed. Forgotten now was the lavish dinner and the bedroom frolic. Even the exquisite canary diamond that still sparkled on her finger went unnoticed in her haste to get to Stonelair. It was after midnight, and the summer storm was lashing the countryside.
Valerie could barely make out the road ahead of her as she raced over the curving country roads. The rain- drenched landscape was a void of total darkness, except when the terrifying streaks of lightning rent the sky, momentarily illuminating the fields and woods and the occasional house and barn in an eerie glow. The accompanying thunder came in such ferocious rolling claps that she involuntarily jumped.
"Jeez," she said aloud, "it sounds like it's coming through the roof." Suddenly she wished that Elvis was with her to keep her company. She reached over and turned on the radio. It was the next best thing, she supposed. It was set on the classical station, and strains of Schubert's piano quintet "The Trout" filled her ears. She laughed nervously, thinking that Schubert's trout would be very happy indeed in this weather.
Virtual rivers, washing off the hills, flowed across the road at points, but the big Jeep negotiated them easily. On she rolled, hunched over the steering wheel, determined to get to Stonelair as soon as possible. She'd never ministered to this particular horse before, but from what she'd heard over the cellular, it didn't sound good. And she never knew when she might be too late.
She slowed down when her headlights picked out the stone walls that surrounded the old estate. She seldom drove on this remote stretch of road, but she remembered that somewhere along here were the big iron gates. Why would I remember that? she wondered. Maybe it's because these gates have always looked so forbidding. Like they really meant "Stay Out."
"Oops!" she said aloud. "There it is." She'd just passed them on her right.
She shoved her foot on the brake, skidding slightly, then had to back up a few feet, thankful that there wasn't any traffic on the road. She swung the Jeep onto the blacktop drive that led up to the huge stone piers with their black gates. They'd told her that there would be a column with a push-button speaker in the middle of the drive, and now she saw it. She pulled over next to it, rolled down her window, and pressed the speaker button. The sleeve of her lab coat was instantly drenched, and rain lashed into the car, splattering her face and hair as well.
A man's voice asked who it was. Who the devil are they expecting after midnight? she thought. "Dr. Rochelle," she replied, raising her voice to be heard above the rain.
"When you come to the Y in the road," the disembodied voice said, "take the one to the left. It leads to the stables."
Then the speaker went dead, and the gates slowly began to swing open. At the same time, she saw that video cameras were mounted on the stone piers. They appeared to focus their eyes upon her like alien monsters in a sci-fi movie.
What the hell is all this security about? she wondered. Most of the horse owners hereabouts didn't have any security at all, and the handful who owned extremely valuable animals usually had nothing more than an alarm system in the stables. But then, she reminded herself, she didn't know these people. She did know that they'd paid a fortune for the vast, somewhat rundown estate, and she had heard rumors that they'd spent another fortune sprucing it up. Stonelair, a white elephant with huge taxes and impossibly large spaces to heat, had sat vacant for years until these people had come along from out of nowhere.
Ah, the follies of the extremely rich, she thought as she sped down the narrow blacktop lane toward the house. And the paranoia!
The road was lined on both sides with enormous evergreens—spruce, pine, and hemlock—with rhododendrons tucked in front of them next to the road. On ahead a hundred feet, she spotted the Y in the road, and when she came to it, she veered to the left as the voice had instructed her. The road apparently circled around the mansion and toward the back of the estate.
In another minute she came to a large parking area. On her left she could make out what was definitely a stone stable block. She slammed on her brakes and killed the engine. Grabbing her carryall, she jumped out of the car and hurried around to the rear. Opening the door, she took out her heavy medical bag.
She turned to dash toward the stable.
"Oh, my God!" she gasped.
A giant stood poised in her path. He had appeared from out of nowhere, without a sound, at least none that she could detect over the driving rain and wind.
"Sorry," she said, quickly recovering her composure. "I didn't hear you." She surmised that he must be a benign giant, because he held an umbrella aloft and was opening another one for her. She took it from him, glad for the shelter from the rain.
"Dr. Rochelle?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, nodding her head.
"Santo Ducci," the man said. He didn't extend a hand to shake. "This way," he said with a slight nod of his head. Without another word he began walking toward the stable.
Valerie quickly fell in step beside him, taking sidelong glances at her decidedly odd escort. His head was completely shaved, and he had a black mustache and small goatee. In his ear was a large gold ring.
Mr. Clean, she couldn't help thinking. As they moved, his body was a study in rippling musculature. Tree trunk arms and legs to match, six-pack abs, a chest from here to yon. Jeez, a human HumVee. But then, she decided, she must make a rather odd picture herself: hair practically plastered to her head, wet jeans, T-shirt, and lab coat, and shoes that were already nearly soaked through.
They quickly reached the stable, and he opened a door and held it for her. Valerie stepped into a truly luxurious office. Mahogany-paneled walls, an old Tabriz rug on the floor, handsome old leather-upholstered couches and chairs, a huge mahogany table that served as a desk, and, the only giveaways that she was in the twenty-first century: a computer, printer, fax machine, and filing cabinets.
She closed her umbrella and put it in the old iron stand by the doorway. "Which way do we go?" she asked, in a hurry to get to the sick horse.
"Over this way," he answered. He led her through a door into a tack room. Its walls were covered with riding accessories: saddles, bridles, reins, breastplates and collars, jawbands, browbands, nosebands, halters, leads, and on and on, all of it, Valerie noticed, leather and brass alike, gleaming from the polish of meticulous care. From the tack room he led her through another door and out into the stable proper. Valerie calculated that there must be at least thirty stalls in the immaculately kept space, but her attention immediately switched to the air of anxiety, of instinctual nervousness, that she sensed about the stable tonight.
The storm, she thought. The lightning and thunder have them on edge.
Then she heard it, above the sounds of the storm and the restlessness of the other horses: the sound of an animal in acute distress. That only increases the nervousness of the rest of them, she thought.
Without waiting for Ducci, she quickened her pace, heading in the direction of the sound. When she reached the stall, she looked in through the barred opening in the stall door and saw the magnificent Arabian stallion, to all appearances of excellent bloodlines, lying on its side though tethered to the stall. In its pain it might do harm to itself, so they'd tied it down. She could see that the horse had been rolling in agony and was sheathed in sweat.
She set down her carryall and medical bag and started to open the door to the stall, but the giant grabbed her arm from behind.
"Wait!" he said with alarm. "You're liable to get hurt. He's an extremely high-strung animal and could be dangerous like this. Hadn't you better try to sedate him or something first?"
Valerie turned to him. "He's tethered, and I know something about what I'm doing. Just back off a little bit," she said calmly
. "Let me be alone with him for a few minutes."
"I don't know . . . ," Ducci said.
"I do," Valerie replied emphatically. "I don't mean to be rude, but I know what I'm doing. If you could just wait over there"—she indicated a bench near the door to the tack room—"I'll call you if I need you."
Ducci shrugged. "Whatever you say," he said gruffly.
With him out of the way, Valerie turned her attention back to the stall. On its door was a brass plaque with the horse's name engraved on it: Storm Warning. How appropriate, she thought. She unlatched the stall door and stepped inside confidently but quietly. She stood staring at the magnificent creature a few moments before getting down on her knees beside him, steering clear of his hindquarters. The horse was in severe distress. Stroking his head, she began talking to him in a soft, gentle voice. Her eyes swept his body as she continued, assessing his general physical condition, seeing if he appeared to present with anything other than what she thought. After her cursory examination, she continued to stroke and talk to him for another minute before slowly getting to her feet and retrieving her medical bag and carryall.
She placed them near Storm Warning and got back down on her knees, speaking soothingly to him the whole time. Just as she opened her medical bag, there was a sudden crash of thunder and flash of lightning. The lights flickered for a moment, then went out, plunging the stable into complete darkness. The horses reacted to the violent weather with noises of their own, stomping, snorting, and whinnying.
"Dr. Rochelle?" Ducci called to her.
She stroked Storm Warning again. "Yes?" she replied.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she said. "Have you got a lantern or something?"
"I'll be right there," he answered.
She heard him moving about, feeling in the darkness. "There," she whispered, as her hands stroked the horse's slick, well-groomed coat. "You'll be okay, Storm Warning. We'll have you better in no time."
The minutes seemed to stretch interminably in the pitch black of the stable, but she soon heard Ducci approaching from the direction of the tack room.
