A Dark Autumn (9 page)

As Ricky was reduced to begging, again, the woods erupted into a tumult of gasps and moans from the synchronicity of the girls’ aggressive orgasms.

Not stopping to rest, they kept the rhythm fast and hostile.

Michelle knew as she continued to grate her hips that what she was doing was inexcusably wrong, and that she would forever have to live with the ramifications of her actions. An unforgivable sin.
 

At the moment though, she couldn’t care less.
 

Chapter Fifteen

Britt Marlowe thumbed his cell phone off when he got Michelle’s voicemail again. He’d been calling all evening, because he felt awful about not being able to go with her to the mountains and just wanted her to know so. But his dad had said he was sorry Britt had to cancel on Michelle, and to make it up to him had decided to run the parts himself for Saturday’s deliveries, leaving Britt free to make the trip after all.
 

Better late than never.

He’d been trying to reach Michelle ever since to let her know he was coming out there. It was odd. Usually she answered on the first ring, practically singing
Hello
into the phone. Britt had assumed her reception wasn’t the greatest where she was, so he’d kept trying, taking turns calling her cell phone and then the number to the cabin. Finally, he gave up and called her parents for directions. He’d decided to stop calling and just surprise her tomorrow. He could already see the smile on her face as he lay back in his bed.
 

This was probably the sweetest thing he’d ever done. Their relationship was essentially a good one, although he knew they disagreed when it came to sex. She was the wildest and most open-minded person he’d ever been with, perhaps even
too
open-minded. It seemed that nothing was sacred to her when it came to sex.
 

Most guys loved a girl like that, and Britt could vouch that it did have its advantages, but there were times when he found himself wishing she was more traditional. He loved a little creativity, but it was nothing for her to take it too far.
 

Such as one night early in the relationship when they were having sex—fucking as Michelle would bluntly put it—missionary-style, she sucked on her finger until it was nice and moist, then slid it inside his ass. Never in his life had a girl done that to him, nor had he ever wanted one to. When he made her stop, she told him not to be a common cock.
A common cock.
It was the only time they’d
argued
about sex, but the hurtful words had stayed with him and had given him a complex that he tried to ignore. Although she hadn’t said anything else about his uninspiring preferences, he knew it still bothered her.
 

Britt’s cat Babs hopped up on the bed and was already purring when her feet met the mattress. She was older, and her purr was more like a rattle from inside her chest. He reached over, running his hand along her downy fur. She was a calico cat that he’d rescued from the animal shelter last year. Six years in age and declawed, he’d managed to get her without having to pay an adoption fee. Michelle hated Babs, and Britt assumed the feeling was mutual. He was often accused of loving the cat more than his own girlfriend.
 

Sometimes he wondered if he actually did.
 

Babs meowed as she climbed up on his chest, walked in a circle and laid on her stomach with her cold nose grazing his chin. He stroked her back, making the rattling purr increase in volume. He could feel her sputtering breath on his neck. She closed her eyes, ready to unwind for the night.
 

Britt was ready to unwind as well. He looked over at the alarm clock, making sure the red dot was lighted in the corner. It was. That meant the alarm was set. He’d already packed his bag, so all that was left to do in the morning was shower, brush his teeth and eat. Then he would be on his way to Michelle’s cabin.

As he began to drift off, with the blurry apparitions of a dream wavering toward him, an evident hostility about tomorrow prodded the back of his mind. It was the same kind of feeling he’d get the night before he was supposed to do something very important the next day.
 

Dread.
 

He was not looking forward to going out there, but somehow he knew he was
supposed
to. That was his last thought as he succumbed to sleep, and it never bothered him again.

Chapter Sixteen

The woods had gradually returned to its usual splendor. The owls and frogs started to croon as crickets broke into a steady chorale. It was a beautiful night, cool and chipper, a crisp wind that occasionally swayed the trees, raining multi-colored leaves down from the sky.
 

Lucy had added more wood to the campfire, raising the flames to galloping slaps of orange and red. It had nearly died while she’d held Ricky’s legs down so the others could have their fun. She’d already had hers, and wasn’t at all interested in seconds.
 

Although she couldn’t exactly claim she felt guilty about what she’d done, it bothered her how quickly their innocently fun night had turned to one of depravity. She’d tried not to watch the others as they’d molested Ricky, pawing and cooing at each other, their bodies suited in sweat as they’d kissed and licked each other. She wasn’t worried she’d become affected and want to join in, actually she was afraid of how sickened she would become with her friends. Yes—she’d participated, but it had been quick and basically painless, but she still regretted it and probably would forever.
 

As she began putting her clothes back on, she realized nothing about this night had been quick and painless and she was just as bad as the others. Then she allowed the guilt to register. It sat on her chest like a boulder, slowly crushing her lungs and making it difficult to breathe.
 

Lucy hiked her panties up. She ran her thumb along the waist band to straighten it. Then she sat on the log that had become her true companion tonight, and slid her feet into the legs of her pants. She looked beyond the fire to where Ricky lay on his side, quietly sobbing.
 

His penis was softening, but had not completely gone limp. She’d wondered how he’d remained hard throughout it all, but then Helen had confessed to drugging him with Roger’s pills and it had all made sense.
 

Amanda stood by the fire smoking a cigarette while Helen drank vodka straight from the bottle. Michelle sat on the ground near Ricky’s feet, naked, hugging her legs to her chest. Her eyes were serious, her mouth partly opened. There was a battle going on behind her bothered expression. Lucy couldn’t hear the thoughts, but she could guess as to what they were.

Helen’s laughter killed the silence. “I can hardly walk.”

Lucy watched as Helen staggered, her legs bowed out to the side. It wasn’t just the booze that had caused it, but Ricky’s gigantic penis. They would all be sore for the next few days.
 

Amanda rubbed the area below her stomach. “I hurt deep. I think he messed me up in there.”

Helen laughed again. “He messed us
all
up deep in there.”

“So, what do we do now?” asked Michelle.

Lucy had been wondering the same thing, but was too scared to ask. With Helen’s track record, she would not have been surprised if she declared they should kill Ricky.
 

“About what?” asked Helen.

“Him,” nodded Michelle.

Ricky hadn’t moved.
 

Helen sighed. “Who cares?”

“I care. We… We…”

“Yes,” said Helen. “We.
We?”

Groaning, Michelle shrugged, clucked her tongue.
 

Lucy cleared her throat. “Michelle’s right. Do you think we can…just…go on like we didn’t
do
anything?”

“Of course we can,” Helen snapped back. “I can, so why wouldn’t you able to?”

“We forced ourselves on him!” Lucy shoved her arms into her shirt, and jerked it over her head. When the shirt passed her eyes and her view was no longer obstructed, Helen was glaring down on her. Lucy gasped.

“You shut your fucking mouth! We didn’t do anything he didn’t want us to! That is the truth.”
 

Lucy felt the heat of her words, the warm saliva as it spattered her face.
 

Michelle stood up, her exposed flesh the color of candlelight. “He didn’t want us to do that…we just…did it.”

“Yes, we did. Even
you.
And, who gives a shit? Who
really
gives a shit?” Helen shook her head, and took another swig from the bottle. “What do you think he’s going to do? Tell on us? Do you think a
man
would be willing to admit that four little girls got the better of him? And, the fact that he’s gay… Who would believe him?”

“You think he’s gay now?” asked Michelle.

“Fuck if he is or not. No one will believe him.”

Lucy wanted to quarrel some more, but there was no point in doing so. Besides, through all of Helen’s psychotic babblings she had made some valid points, and Lucy had to admit they all made sense. Who would he tell?
Why
would he tell? Every man she’d ever known was cursed by their stubborn pride, even the ones that hardly seemed to be men at all. She doubted any of them would report being assaulted by four women, and doubted even more that Ricky would.
 

Lucy was confident they were in the clear.
 

When she turned around to profess her agreement with Helen, she saw a flash of movement. She felt the rugged tread of a boot bracket her throat. Inside her throat something imploded.

Then she couldn’t breathe.

Chapter Seventeen

Michelle’s attention was focused on Helen when Ricky kicked Lucy, catching them all by surprise. She’d doubted he would have ever recovered from this, and definitely hadn’t expected him to fight back. He seemed like too timid of a guy, someone who avoided confrontations. She guessed anyone in his situation probably came to a split in the road where they could go in either direction, and Ricky chose to retaliate.

Lucy took the brunt of the kick on her throat. She fell backwards, her legs shooting upward as she rolled onto her stomach. When she sat up, her hands were slapping at her throat, her eyes wide as golf balls.
 

Ricky shoved Helen. Her feet tangled together, locking her legs at the knees. There was nothing she could do to keep herself up, and down she went.
 

Amanda screamed, back-stepping as Ricky approached. She wasn’t fast enough, obviously from how sore she was. He backhanded her. The slap was louder than her screams. She landed on her knees and then was kicked.
 

Michelle had to do something. Had to stop him. She looked around. There weren’t any weapons, nothing that was powerful enough. And she definitely wasn’t strong enough to take him on by hand.
 

Hugging her stomach, Amanda groaned behind her sobs. Ricky planted another solid kick between her breasts. She made a horrible rasp as the air blasted from her lungs.
 

Michelle continued to look for something to stop him with. There was nothing. She considered running into the woods, breaking a branch from one of the trees, but she was naked and dreaded going out there without any clothes on. Her head whisked this way and that until her eyes spotted something.

Rocks.

There was a circle around the campfire of bludgeoning weapons. Why hadn’t she thought of them sooner?
 

She broke for them, dropped to her knees and curved her hands around the closest one while heavy slapping sounds and Amanda’s cries resonated from behind her. Michelle’s skin sizzled when it touched the rock. It burned. But she didn’t let it stop her. She heaved it up. Carrying the rock with both hands, she charged over to Ricky as he was raising his leg to what looked like stomp on Amanda’s head.

Then she revved her arms back and brought it down.

Ricky was a foot taller than Michelle, but the rock connected with the back of his skull making a wet cracking sound. His head knocked forward, then his body followed. He turned a half circle and fell. He landed on the campfire. Cherry red ashes sprayed out from under him as he quickly rolled off and onto ground, where he remained motionless. His clothes were patched with charred areas, fuming smoke from the black grunge.

Michelle dropped the rock.
 

As she allowed her breath to steady, Helen’s screams faded through. Michelle forced herself to look away from Ricky’s cataleptic form. To the right of her, Helen was squatting beside Lucy who sat with her back against a tree. She was grabbing at Helen’s shoulders, making the most frantic and disturbing asthmatic gulps she’d ever heard.
 

Michelle quickly went to them, careful not to step on any of the hot ashes that had peppered the ground. She hoped another fire wouldn’t start, because they had no way of putting it out if one did. As she neared Lucy, she saw why she’d been making such horrible sounds.
 

The front of her throat was dented inward. Her neck was bruised in a booted footprint pattern, and her face was dark blue. The color of her eyes was drowning in the bulging whites.