Body Rides (54 page)

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Authors: Richard Laymon

BOOK: Body Rides
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Neal saw her composure begin to slip. Her face reddened and she started breathing harder.

Contemplating double homicide?

She tossed a glance at Neal, then picked up her purse and walked off.

Never said a word
.

Oh man, Neal thought. How could I let this happen? How could I do this to her? I
love
her, damn it! She loves
me
. And I dump her for the first stranger I meet . . .

Sue’s no stranger
.

Not anymore, he told himself, but she was sure a stranger Tuesday morning when I stopped for breakfast. How could I let this happen?

I’m such a shit
.

But I fell in love with Sue, he told himself. What was I supposed to do, get rid of her?

This sucks. This sucks so bad
.

‘Go to her,’ Sue whispered.

He turned his head. Sue’s body remained stretched out naked beside him, but her head swiveled and tilted slightly. She opened one eye.

‘You’re awake,’ Neal whispered.

‘Yeah. Now, go on. Get her cheered up. Lie if ya gotta.’

Neal nodded and struggled to his feet. He felt shaky, frightened, ashamed.

The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt Marta
.

But you did, he told himself. Demolished her. It didn’t show, but she’s crushed inside.

He walked quietly down the hallway to her bedroom. The door was shut. He gave it a few taps with his knuckles.

And waited.

He was about to try knocking again, but she said, ‘Come in.’

His hand was sweaty. It made the knob wet and slippery. But he turned the knob and pushed the door open. He stepped into the bedroom, then quietly shut the door.

Marta was standing at her closet. After hanging up her blue blazer, she turned around and met Neal’s eyes. ‘So,’ she said. ‘I guess that was Sue.’ She didn’t sound snide or indignant or angry – just a little breathless, agitated.

She doesn’t know what to make of this, Neal thought.

Or is she struggling to control herself?

‘We fell asleep talking,’ Neal said. He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. About all this.’

Marta frowned. ‘How’d your arms get scratched up?’

‘Some woman.’

‘Sue?’

‘No. It was just a little misunderstanding with someone. It’d be a long story.’

‘Do they hurt?’

‘Not much. They’re getting better. It happened a couple of nights ago.’

‘You’ve been busy.’

‘I still love you, Marta.’

Her eyes on Neal, she moved her head very slightly up and down a couple of times. She started to untie the blue and gold silk scarf around her neck. Her hands were trembling.

‘Sue’s a beautiful girl,’ she said.

Neal nodded. ‘So are you,’ he said.

A corner of her mouth turned up. ‘Didn’t you call her a gum-snapping twerp? A brain-dead hillbelly?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Now you’re in love with her.’ She wasn’t asking.

‘I think so,’ he admitted.

Marta started to unfasten the buttons of her white blouse.

Neal couldn’t believe she was doing it in front of him.

‘And you’ve slept with her, haven’t you.’ It wasn’t a question, either.

He nodded. Then he managed to swallow. Then he said, ‘She gave up the gum-snapping.’

Marta didn’t seem to find it funny. But she finished with the buttons, and started to untuck her blouse.

‘She’s a very nice person,’ Neal said. ‘I mean . . . in other circumstances . . . if you just happened to meet her someplace . . . you’d like her. You couldn’t
help
but like her.’

‘I can see why
you
did.’ Not even
that
came out sounding snide.

Marta took off the blouse, walked to the corner of her room, and tossed it into her hamper. Standing at the hamper, her back to Neal, she took off her bra. She dropped it in.

Still facing the hamper, she asked, ‘What about me? Should I . . . consider myself dumped?’

I wish you wouldn’t.’

‘You think you’re . . . in love with both of us?’

‘Seems that way,’ Neal said.

‘Does Sue love you?’

‘Apparently.’

‘I do. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Even now?’ Neal asked.

‘Even now. I guess I must be crazy.’ She turned around and walked slowly toward him. Her black leather shoes were silent on the carpet. She wore pantyhose and her straight, blue skirt.

Bare above the skirt, she somehow seemed more naked than the times when she wore nothing at all.

Her eyes looked a little frightened.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Neal whispered.

She halted in front of him, reached out with both hands, and started to unbutton his shirt. Her breasts were pushed together between her arms, making her cleavage a straight, tight slot.

Neal stood there, staring at her as she opened his shirt and pulled it off and tossed it aside. When she took hold of his belt, she flicked a glance at his eyes.

‘Are you all right?’ he whispered.

‘Sure.’

Standing face to face on the carpet near the foot of the bed, they
undressed each other. First, Marta finished with Neal. Then she took off her own shoes, but she let Neal pull down her pantyhose. Staying crouched in front of her, he drew her panties down. She stepped out of them.

As he kissed her soft mat of hair, he suddenly thought of the woman in the garage. Rasputin’s crucified plaything, his burnt toy.

Nothing I could do
.

I should’ve at least
tried
to find my way back. I
might’ve
recognized the house.

What if he does it to Marta or Sue? What if he nails them to a wall and sets them on fire?

I’ll kill him. I’ll rip him apart
.

‘Watch the teeth,’ Marta whispered.

Neal felt as if he’d been in a daze. Her hair was a wet tangle in his mouth. He kissed her gently, then stood up. She gazed into his eyes. He felt her breasts against him. And he felt a couple of hairs in his mouth.

Smiling slightly, Marta picked them out.

He ran his hands down her back, and squeezed her buttocks. They felt large after Sue’s, but just as firm and smooth.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Neal whispered.

‘I’m sure.’

‘A lot has changed.’

‘Not how I feel about you,’ she said. ‘I’ll always love you, no matter what.’

‘I’ll always love you, too,’ he told her.

And was pretty sure that he meant it.

‘What about Sue?’ she asked.

‘Do you want me to dump her?’

Marta shook her head, which surprised him. Then she said, ‘That isn’t what I meant. Are you going to feel guilty about it if we make love?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I hope not.’

‘You had me first,’ Neal said. ‘Besides, I don’t think she’ll mind.’

‘Most women would.’

‘She knows how I feel about you.’

Curling her fingers lightly around his penis, Marta asked,
‘Would you dump her if I asked you to?’

He didn’t have to think about it.

‘I’d hate to do that,’ he said.

‘Good thing I’m not asking,’ Marta said.

They went to Marta’s bed. Bending over it, she pulled down the blanket and top sheet.

They lay down together.

The sheet under Neal felt smooth and cool at first. He stretched out, relishing the feel of it. Then he rolled onto his side. Marta, on her side, scooted closer to him until the tips of her breasts touched his chest, and his penis pushed against her belly. She gazed into his eyes.

‘So here we are,’ she whispered. She put a hand out and rested it on his hip. ‘It’s good to have you back.’

‘It’s good to be here.’

‘I was so worried about you. I was so afraid I’d never see you again – that he’d find you, somehow. Rasputin. And kill you.’ Tears suddenly shimmered in Marta’s eyes. ‘Even if I lose you to her . . . to Sue . . .’

‘I don’t want to lose you,’ Neal whispered.

They moved in snug against each other. Marta was all soft and smooth. When she opened her mouth, she was wet. And Neal was wet and slick against her belly.

The feel of her mouth was familiar to him. Every part of her body was familiar, and so were the sounds she made, and the ways she touched him and how she moved. All of her, familiar and safe and like going home.

Forty-Three
 

When Neal woke up, he sensed that he’d been asleep for hours. He was sprawled on his back, hot from the sunlight that filtered in through the curtains above Marta’s bed.

He could hear her sleeping beside him, softly snoring.

He pushed himself up on his elbows.

She was curled on her side, facing away from him. Her hair was a tangle of mussed gold. Her skin looked tawny in the mellow light. Her left arm rested on top of her side. Its hair was very fine and nearly invisible on her upper arm, thicker below her elbow.
Neal wanted to run his lips along the length of her arm and feel the downy hair.

But he didn’t want to wake her.

Looking beyond her shoulder, he saw the clock on the nightstand.

3:18 p.m.

Marta hadn’t fallen asleep until almost eleven that morning.

So Neal didn’t touch her. He stared at her for a while longer, savoring the light and shadows on the curves and rises and slants and creases of her body. He wished she weren’t asleep. He would love to touch her, to explore every bit of her, caressing and kissing and tasting . . .

Like I did to Sue
.

Sue
.

She’d been deserted for hours.

Neal carefully made his way to the edge of the bed, swung his feet to the floor, and stood up. Marta didn’t stir. She sounded as if she were still asleep.

He stepped around the clothes scattered on the carpet, then eased open the door and stepped into the hallway. He shut the door.

As he walked silently toward the living room, he wondered if Sue was asleep.

He wondered if she’d ever gotten dressed.

What
has
she been doing? he wondered.

And who was she in, Marta or me?

He knew her well enough to be sure that she’d used the bracelet on one or the other of them; she had been present, a mute participant in all that had happened in Marta’s bedroom.

It didn’t bother him, though.

He hadn’t given the matter any conscious thought at the time, but he must’ve wanted Sue to be with them. Otherwise, he could have taken the bracelet from her.

She might be in me right now, he realized.


Hello? You in here? How was it?

Even as he put the questions to Sue inside his mind, he stepped into the living room and saw the empty sofa. Both blankets were neatly folded, stacked at one end, the pillows piled on top of them.

Sue was not in the room.

Take it easy. She’s probably around here someplace
.

Neal hurried toward the bathroom, but changed direction when he saw its open door, and entered the kitchen. The linoleum felt smooth and warm under his bare feet.

No Sue.

She’s gone!

What if Rasputin got in, somehow, and
. . .

Took her to that garage
. . .

Nailed her to the wall
. . .

Neal was just starting to cringe inside when he saw the piece of paper standing upright in the middle of the kitchen table. He snatched it up.

The note was printed in pencil.

 

Dear Neal and Marta,

Gone shopping. Back before you know it.

Luv,

Me

Neal took a deep breath, and sighed. ‘Thank God,’ he muttered. Then he wondered where she’d gone.

Heading for a store seemed like an odd thing for her to do, especially since she’d never been in Los Angeles before. How would she even know where to go?

She’s not exactly shy. Probably asked someone
.

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