As gratifying as Molly's verbal assault on Allen and Elisabeth had been, it was also irritating. Molly Perkins wasn't in high school anymore, although her frequent actions indicated otherwise. She couldn’t get over Allen (God knew why) a year and a half later.
Jack had done his best to dissuade Lucy from inviting Molly to the Big East for the summer, but his protest had been unfounded and selfish. Lucy and Molly had grown close, a fact that occasionally made life miserable for Allen.
But their bond seemed sincere. Molly was overdramatic but that didn't make her a bad person, even if Jack couldn't understand why anyone would want the drama queen for a friend. Life with Molly was more of a one-way street than most friendships should be.
He stayed to the left and followed the trail lights back to his room. Lucy had a cell phone. He'd give her a call in an hour or two.
***
"Whooooo-boy."
Lucy whipped her handbag down onto the couch as she entered Jack's room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Jack was stretched out in the recliner, watching TV with a can of diet soda in his hand and a bag of chips plopped on his stomach.
"Good times?"
"Incredibly," she said. "I don't know what I was thinking, I really don't. I just sort of figured that they could put up with each other."
"That was your first mistake."
"Hey, I don't need criticism from the cheap seats."
Lucy went for the kitchen and grabbed the opened bottle of vodka sitting on the counter. Thankfully, there was lots of orange juice in stock to go along with it. She didn't much like straight alcohol and tolerated screwdrivers only slightly more. After tonight's debacle, she needed something to burn the edge away, and this would do.
"Wasn't that the perfect ending to a majestic evening?" Lucy took a seat on the couch.
"One way of looking at it. I wish I had your disposition. Probably wouldn't mind what job I take next year if that was the case."
"When life tosses you lemons..."
"Life tossed you oranges."
"Don't remind me."
She drank the screwdriver and remembered why she hadn't had one in years. The acidity of the orange juice wasn't exactly a pleasure, and pulp had a disgusting texture. All of it contributed to the overall miserable experience of the beverage.
Her brow wrinkled at the second sip and she wondered why she did this to herself. She was only twenty-two. It wasn’t like today was a hard day at the office, offering a cock and bull story to unhappy investors, or whatever her father did. It didn't bode well for her future if she was seeking the assistance of alcohol now.
You’re entitled, she thought. Things have been shitty lately.
"I hate these things. I really do." She stuck her tongue out to get the taste off her tongue.
"Allen loves 'em. I suspect he goes that route because he can't handle a real drink."
"That's right, I forgot how tough you are with your Wild Turkey. I'm in the presence of a man's man...I wasn't even thinking."
"Shut up."
Lucy put the glass beside the couch and stretched out, arching her back and breasts. She'd purposely worn this low-cut, tie-died number because she liked the way her boobs looked in it. The shirt conformed to her shape, rounding tight around her bosom while accenting her flat stomach.
She watched Jack to see if he'd sneak a peek as she yawned, but his attention never left HBO.
Well, that's disappointing.
With Allen running around Greifsfield like an obedient dog, Lucy hoped Jack would take more interest in her. They'd been friends for years and, for as long as she could recall, she wanted them to be more. Jack, as far as she could tell, did not.
He shoveled more chips into his mouth than he could fit and washed it down with a swig of soda. Crumbs scattered onto his shirt, landing in the recliner's recesses.
Why do I want him again?
But Lucy knew why. It wasn't entirely a physical thing. It really couldn't be that with Jack. Not to suggest that he was a bad-looking guy, with his constant stubble and unkempt hair. He had a look that was his own, and he pulled it off. Jeans and t-shirt chic, for lack of a better label.
He did have acne that pocked his face on occasion, and that ever-expanding potbelly hadn't been there last year. Still, she liked looking at Jack and decided long ago that his indifference to physical appearance was part of the attraction. And it wasn't like he had bad hygiene. His aroma had never really changed in the years that she had known him: Mennen by way of Yankee Candle.
Reliable and comforting.
Lucy's campus roommates couldn't understand her hopeless crush, but she never gave a damn about what they thought. Their company was serviceable throughout the school year, but she was hard-pressed to think of any that she intended to remain friends with after graduation. Most were content to wrap their lips around the shallowest guys for social prestige, so their life goals weren't exactly aligned.
Lucy crossed her legs so that the bottoms of her shorts rode up, flashing a healthy amount of thigh.
Jack went for another handful of chips instead of looking.
"Didn't you want to see that band?" she asked.
"They're starting just about now."
"Gotcha. That explains it..."
"Explains what?"
"Why you're pouting."
Jack was looking her way now, even noticing her bare thighs. "I'm not pouting."
"No?"
"Maybe I am. I don't know. It's just that tonight was terrible. Allen pulls this crap all the time."
"I know. But usually the girl realizes what a flake he is in no time. To be honest, I'm shocked that this one has lasted this long."
"Oh, I'm sure it won't last. It's just annoying. Did you notice how he tried to skate around every topic that she might object to?"
"I don't know why you'd want to continue to associate with someone who's chosen to disavow all knowledge of Dokken."
"I thought you didn't like anything but that DJ crap."
"I've got the classics on my iPod. I'm not a heathen, you know."
"Up for debate."
"Are you sure you don't want to go see pseudo-Depeche? We can make it in no time."
"Nah."
"Well, if you're not up for that...something else?"
"I don't know, you know how Celebrity Rehab hooks me in…"
Lucy flung a decorative pillow at him. "Let’s go, jerk."
"Where?"
Lucy picked up the rest of her drink, winced and swallowed it. "I don't mean to add to the day's misery, but I kind of need to talk."
"Shady. About what?"
Lucy hoisted Jack out of the recliner. A smattering of chip crumbs plummeted off his shirt as he rose.
"Just...stuff," she told him. "Maybe we'll take a ride, but for now I sort of feel like walking."
Jack disappeared into his bedroom and returned with a black fleece. "Do you want this? You're the coldest person I know."
"How can you say that after we've had the pleasure of meeting one Elisabeth Luna?"
"Different kind of cold."
"True," Lucy giggled and took the fleece. Jack was right, she could be cold in July.
They stepped outside. Jack locked the room and they walked the trails headed toward the Big East’s main grounds. They footed it in silence until Jack asked about Molly.
"Sleeping, I hope." It hadn't been a pretty sight. "After an hour of me explaining why she’s better off without Allen, I think she started buying it."
"Sure. Until tomorrow."
Lucy agreed. It wasn’t Molly's fault she couldn't get over an ex, and had to keep reminding herself of that. It happened to the best of them, which meant it would definitely happen to Lucy at some point. Heck, it was already starting.
Her nipples stood at attention despite the humid evening air. They poked through the tie-dye, but Jack Markle hadn't bothered to notice.
They emerged from the forest and hit the green, headed for the main
lodge sprawled before them. El Debarge’s Rhythm of the Night was rocking The Cove as they passed, its herd finally beginning to thin as midnight approached. They made their way to the main building, circling around back to a doorway marked 'employees only.' Stairs brought them into the kitchen where the familiar faces of the staff offered friendly, if forced, nods. A few stared blatantly at her best attributes.
They pushed through the tempered action aluminum doors and Jack snickered. "I thought they were going to make a grab for you. Good thing I'm here."
"Yeah, you're the reason they didn't do anything."
"I am intimidating, aren't I?"
"Oh, through and through. This way."
She led him to the end of a hallway that was so white it was nearly clinical. The heavy fire door at the end led up two flights of stairs. Behind her, Jack's asthma announced itself with a string of steady wheezes.
"Almost there," she said, turning to catch his eyes on her backside.
He played it cool and ignored it. "Don't worry. I could climb thirty flights."
"Even so," she said. "We're here."
The second landing opened into a long hallway that led them to the Big East's lobby. Lucy brought Jack down another corridor, to a single, locked door marked with a sign that read: RORY EASTMAN.
"What's with the roundabout way to your dad's office?"
"Just a surprise," she said, noticing the window blind was drawn. That didn't happen unless he was out of the office, but she had to be sure. So she knocked several times before pressing an ear against the glass for a better listen. No sign of habitation on the other side.
"Bastard," she hissed. "He's not here."
"Should he be?" Jack was taking a hit of his inhaler.
Lucy didn't answer. The question of his whereabouts was bothersome. Mom had said he wouldn't be home tonight, that he was working. He sometimes worked late in order to personally tend to VIPs, although she didn't think there were any currently checked in.
The Big East's lobby was a hub of activity. The lounge was jammed full of people packed like sardines, laughing, talking and drinking. The Black Diamond, the restaurant bar and grille, brimmed. She glanced through the windows as they passed it, certain that it was a fire hazard.
It was on most nights, but it didn’t matter when your father had the county fire marshal on his payroll.
Elisabeth's obnoxious insinuations echoed in that moment. "Deep pockets speak much louder than protest."
God, Lucy thought. What a bitch.
The front desk clerk perked up when he saw Lucy approaching. His expression went from blank to shit-eating like a switch had been flipped.
"Evening Ms. Eastman..."
"Hi. And it's Lucy, please. Would you happen to know if my father's around?"
"Haven't seen him in a while."
"What's a while?"
"I came in at three today. I saw him right around that time. He stopped by the front desk and checked on a few reservations. Haven't seen him since."
"Dammit," she whispered, turning away from the desk.
"You're getting worked up, Luce. Why are you looking for your father all of a sudden?"
"I want to catch him in the act."
"What act?"
"He's cheating."
"Oh man, I'm sorry." Jack stared like there was nothing more to say.
"It's worse, too," she said.
She stepped close and dipped her head, pulling Jack's ear to her mouth, determined to keep this out of earshot. With this much background noise, it shouldn't be a problem, but one could never be too careful.
“Two nights ago that son of a bitch tried to rape me.”
***
Elisabeth guided the cherry red Eclipse-Spyder to the tip of the gravel driveway and killed the engine. Without a word, she slid out from behind the wheel and ascended the steps to the second floor deck, leaving Allen in the still of the night.
He watched her trim silhouette slink into the darkness and debated his next move.
She wasn't making things comfortable for him.
Dinner had not gone well, despite Jack and Lucy's appreciated efforts. He'd have to give them a call in the morning to apologize.
The porch light came to life, jolting Allen from both his thoughts and the encompassing night. Above him, Elisabeth leaned against the railing and looked down from the raised veranda. She did not speak, too aware that her plunging neckline was inviting enough.
He didn't wait another minute. His minor grievances dissipated, replaced with endless desire for her.
"I thought you were going to make me sleep in the car tonight," he said, reaching the top of the stilted deck and taking hold of her slender waist. His hands glided along the surface of her silky dress, desperate to see her slip from it.
"For?" She parried away and her hand, smooth and soft, brushed his forearm.
His heart thumped against his chest with just a little more force than usual.
"You know," he said, "The whole thing with Molly."
"Ah. Her. It does call into question your taste in women, I suppose. It doesn't make this evening your fault, however."
"I'm relieved."
"I was somewhat relieved myself. Otherwise we'd still be there listening to that redhead’s prattle."
"You really hated it that much?"
Elisabeth didn't answer. She took Allen by the hand and led him along the deck with gentle steps. Her prolonged touch spread warmth to every cranny of his body. Any guilt over tonight eroded in the wake of his one-track desire for this woman. He thought about defending the honor of his friends, but knew it wasn't worth it. She didn't want to hear it, and he had other things in mind.
Like getting some tonight.
Her home was spacious. They entered through the sliding door and stood inside a large living room, complete with a vaulted ceiling and white marble tiling. The black leather furniture and contemporary décor contrasted the light color scheme. He'd been here a few times and still couldn't imagine Elisabeth living here.
"You really should lock that door," he said as she closed it behind them.
"People come to live in places like this for those very privileges. And nothing has happened to me yet. I've lived by myself for a very long time."
I don’t understand how.
Elisabeth invited him to take a seat on the couch. Her fingers offered a tender press against his chest, guiding him onto the cushion. Her dark hair swung against his face as he allowed her to direct him. The sensation provoked a slight reaction in his pants.
"Relax." Her grin was mischievous. "Have a nightcap with me."
Allen bit the inside of his cheek as he watched Elisabeth and her tight ass disappear into the hallway. His heart slogged harder than that night at the eighth grade dance when he lost his virginity to Christina Banville.
Elisabeth was never this relaxed. Her vibes were different tonight. Playful and inviting. It could only mean one thing, and his pants shifted again at the conclusion.
So far, every one of their dates had ended the same way: a fleeting kiss on the lips and promises of a next time. He hadn't tasted her mouth yet, let alone anything more. They'd been a couple for less than two weeks, and normally that was plenty of time to know what her morning breath smelled like. But not this time. Elisabeth was the exception to just about every rule he'd lived by in his twenty-two years.
He kind of loved that. This was a challenge.
Was she even a good kisser? She got his blood pumping without effort, but what if she couldn't kiss, or there was some other problem? That would ruin everything. He was used to games, but this was the first time he recalled being beaten so badly at one.
In a sick way, this game was exactly what he wanted. She didn't need powers of observation to know that she drove him absolutely wild. Elisabeth Luna kept him wanting more and she knew it. He'd left her house two nights ago with a throbbing hard on. So powerful that he couldn't think about thinking straight. Had to pull over and finish things of
f on the side of the road.
Sealing the deal with her was all he could think about these days: her warm touch, exotic eyes, thick lips, great tits…
The tickle in his pants became a full-fledged throb.
And then Elisabeth returned carrying two wine glasses, each brimming with crimson liquid.
He shifted his posture to conceal the blooming erection, as his eyes roved her ample cleavage as she bent to hand him the glass.
"I hope you like this, it's an old family recipe. My relatives still make it."
Allen brought the glass to his nostrils and swirled it. It smelled like every other wine in the world as far as his palette was concerned, but he didn't want her to know that. And if it wasn't wine, it looked like it: thick, full-bodied and ruby red. It splashed against the fancy crystal goblets, leaving the inside stained with splotchy residue.
Elisabeth watched him, smiling.
"You didn't just poison me, did you?"
"Just curious what you're going to think. Drink it."
Even if Allen had an aversion to whatever this substance was, he was going to pour it down his throat. It was Elisabeth's own creation and he would love it—as far as she knew.
"Cheers," he said.
"Cheers," she repeated.
It was wine. Hard to say what kind since, much like the smell, it tasted like every other one he’d ever had. It stained his lips, tongue and teeth, coating his throat on its way down.
Then it started to change. The familiar, fermented mixture of berries and grains faded, leaving instead a lingering, acidic taste. Maybe it wasn't like every other wine he'd tasted. The flavor riled his taste buds. He took another sip, then another. There was a trace of something bitter amidst the fruitiness and it took a minute to kick in.
He put the glass down on the freeform coffee slab and noticed Elisabeth's blue eyes studying him through the table's reflection.
"How do you like it?" she said.
"I love it," he said, probably a bit too quickly.
Her mouth broke into a wide grin. "I'm so glad."
Allen thought her smile was stunning, and it disarmed much of the night's anticipatory tension. More than anything, he was compelled to push his lips against hers. He wanted to taste her mouth, suck those juicy lips and explore every inch of her curves with his tongue. His eyes dipped to the v-cut top and those perfect breasts sheathed behind it. Her chest heaved with each breath, demanding his attention.
Feral Page 4
