Flesh (24 page)

Alison took a sip of her coffee. “Barf, and I’m on my way home.”

“Barf and the world barfs with you.” But he left the whiskey on the table. He took a drink of coffee. Then he turned on the movie.

Alison sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward, until her mug was empty. Then she settled back against the cushion. She slipped out of her shoes, propped her feet on the edge of the table, and stared between her knees at the television.

She couldn’t follow the movie. Her mind was on Evan. She sensed that he was paying no attention to the movie, either.

He was slumped beside her, his legs stretched out beneath the table, his left arm not quite touching Alison but so close that she thought she could feel the heat of it against her arm. His hand rested on his thigh.

The lighted red numbers of the VGR’s digital clock showed 9:52.

We’ve been sitting like mannequins, Alison thought, for almost twenty minutes.

She had an urge to shift her position. But she didn’t move. A move might trigger something.

This is crazy.

She lowered her feet to the floor, sat up straight, and
stretched, arching her back. She rolled her head to work the kinks out of her neck.

Evan said, “Here.” He reached up with one hand and began to massage her neck.

The fingers felt good plying her stiff muscles. Alison turned her back to Evan, sliding a leg onto the cushion.

Now it starts, she thought.

Both of Evan’s hands were on her shoulders and neck, rubbing, squeezing, caressing. They eased the tightness. Alison closed her eyes and let her head droop. The massaging hands made her feel weak and lazy.

He worked on the bare sides of her neck, beneath her collar.

Nice. Why not nicer?

Alison unfastened a button. Evan’s hands moved outward from her neck, kneading her skin, widening the bare area. Alison felt something loosen and realized, vaguely, that her middle button had popped open on its own. Evan tried to spread the blouse more. It pulled at her. She tugged, untucking it, and the loose blouse rose and opened, exposing her shoulders.

She swayed under the soothing motions of Evan’s strong hands. She felt powerless to lift her head or to open her eyes or to protest when, soon, he slipped the bra straps off her shoulders.

His hands no longer massaged, but glided over her bare skin, caressing her from neck to shoulders.

He stopped for a moment. The sofa cushion moved slightly under Alison and she guessed that Evan was changing his position. Getting onto his knees? Yes. From the sound of his breathing, he was higher now. He stroked her shoulders, eased his hands under her blouse and inside the sleeves to caress her upper arms, then slid his hands out and down, down over her collarbones, down her chest, going away instead of touching her through the filmy fabric of her bra, and opening the last buttons.

He slipped the blouse down her back. Alison’s wrists were trapped in the sleeves, but she made no effort to free them.

For a while, his hands roamed her back and sides. Then they unfastened her bra. Evan kissed the side of her neck. He nibbled, making her squirm. Her heart quickened, desire pushing away the lazy weak feeling. He caressed her sides. His hands moved beneath her arms, slipped under her bra, and lightly cupped her breasts. Her nipples stiffened, pressing into his palms.

Reaching back, she rubbed his thighs through the soft fabric of his pants.

He squeezed her nipples.

A hot tremor pulsed through Alison. She caught her breath. She reached higher, intending to caress his penis through his pants, but she found it rigid and bare. Her hand flew from it.

He chuckled softly. “Surprise,” he whispered.

How long had he been that way, his penis secretly exposed while he caressed her? It seemed wrong, deceitful, almost perverted.

But he rubbed and squeezed her breasts and what did it matter if he’d jumped the gun a bit? He saved me the trouble, Alison thought. She reached up and stroked him.

Then she turned around. Evan was on his knees. As he slid down his pants, Alison removed her hands from the sleeves of her blouse.

She glanced down at herself. Her bra hung like a flimsy scarf above the tops of her breasts. She began to sweep its strap down her left arm and saw a smudge of red on the white, translucent fabric of one rumpled cup.

She stared at the red stain. It looked like a smear of the salsa they’d been dipping their chips into before dinner.

I must’ve spilled…

It’s on my
bra.

In the bathroom after waking up, she had found the middle button of her blouse unfastened.

After waking up.

Evan, naked from waist to knees, lifted his knit shirt to pull it over his head. It was covering his face. Alison jabbed a fist into his belly. Air whooshed out of him. He folded at the waist. Alison flung herself off the sofa just in time to avoid being struck by his crumpling body.

She rammed her feet into her shoes.

Behind her, Evan was gasping for breath.

“You shit,” she muttered. Shaking with rage, she shoved her bra into her handbag. “You filthy shit, you felt me up while I was asleep!” She whirled around to face him. He was on his knees, his forehead pressed against the sofa seat. “That really stinks.
Stinks!”
She thrust a hand down the sleeve of her blouse. “It’s
sick
is what it is!”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

“You rotten bastard.” She struggled to find her other sleeve, then shoved her arm through and slung the purse strap onto her shoulder. With palsied fingers, she tried to fasten her blouse as she rushed to the door.

“Alison!”

She jerked the door open and glanced back at Evan. He was still on the sofa, his ass in the air.

“Don’t go!” he called. “Please!”

She stepped out and slammed the door.

I got him good, Alison told herself as she hurried along the sidewalk. I got him real good.

Oh, sure you got him good. Maybe he’ll have a sore gut for a while, maybe even a bruise, but by morning he’ll be almost as good as new and you won’t.

How could he
do
a thing like that?

How could I sleep through it?

He probably just slipped his hand in for a quick feel, nothing more.

Yeah, sure thing. A feel here, a feel there.

If he’d cleaned the goddamned salsa off his hand, I never would’ve been the wiser. What the fuck was he doing,
eating
while he groped me?

Alison heard an engine. Headlights brightened the road on her left. A car moved slowly ahead of her, close to the curb. “I’m sorry!” Evan called through the open passenger window. “Please, can’t we at least talk?”

She kept walking.

Evan’s car stayed beside her. “At least let me drive you home. We can’t leave it like this.”

“Oh yes we can.”

“I didn’t
do
anything!”

“Oh no?” Alison strode across the grass and stepped off the curb. Evan stopped his car. She crossed in front of its headlights and went to his door. The window was down. She clutched the sill and peered in at him. “You didn’t do anything? How do you figure that, huh? What do call grabbing my tit, not to mention whatever else you might’ve grabbed?”

“I didn’t
know
you were asleep, damnit! I came back from the kitchen and sat down with you, and you
looked
at me. You opened your eyes when I sat down, and gave me this look as if everything was okay, and I put my arm across your shoulders. You didn’t tell me to get lost, so I thought you
liked
it. I thought everything was okay again. That’s when I put my hand in your blouse. I didn’t know you were asleep. You didn’t
act
asleep. My God, you
moaned
when I…touched you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Alison muttered. But her outrage had turned to confusion.

What if he’s telling the truth?

She lowered her head. Her grip on the car door seemed necessary to hold her up.

“I thought you were awake. I never would’ve done those things if I didn’t think you were awake.”

“What things, exactly?”

“You really don’t remember any of it?”

“You did more than…touch my breast?”

“Yes.”

Alison groaned.

“You seemed to like it.”

“Christ.”

“You were breathing hard, you were kind of writhing…”

“My God, I don’t—”

“Then suddenly you
snored.
I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I was in shock. I couldn’t believe you’d been sleeping the whole time, but I thought
what if you were!
I mean, what if you suddenly woke up and found me all over you? So I buttoned your blouse as fast as I could, and decided I’d better pretend the whole thing never happened unless you brought it up first. Which you didn’t.”

“It was just going to be your dark little secret.”

“It was a mistake, Alison.”

“Yeah, uh-huh.”

“I’d planned to tell you about it, but not until later. I figured that, once everything was patched up between us, it’d be safe to tell you about it. Hell, you probably would’ve thought it was funny.”

“A riot.”

“I can certainly understand your being upset. I mean, I know how it must look. But look at it this way: if you hadn’t noticed that sauce on your bra, we’d be making love right now. Wouldn’t we?”

“Probably,” she admitted.

“So what I did…it wasn’t exactly bad, the timing was just off. If it’d happened before last Thursday or after tonight, it wouldn’t even be an issue.”

“Murder isn’t a fucking issue if you put a bullet through someone’s head a minute after he’s already dead.”

“What the hell does murder have to do with anything?”

“I’m just making a point. About timing.”

“I’ve said I’m sorry, Alison. I’ve explained that it was a misunderstanding. I thought you were awake.”

“Did
I
start to undress
you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Wouldn’t that be the standard procedure if I’d been a participant in your little grab-fest?”

“I thought you were just relaxed and enjoying it. Like the way you just relaxed and did nothing while I was giving you the massage.”

“Sure,” she said. She felt so tired.

“I just want you to understand. I want you to come back with me. Everything was going great, Alison. We owe it to ourselves to give it another try.”

“No.” She shook her head slowly from side to side. “It’s over. It’s done.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, all right?”

“Good night, Evan.” She pushed herself away from the car door, staggered backward a few steps, and rubbed her face.

“Tomorrow,” Evan said.

“Get out of here,” she muttered.

He drove away slowly.

Alison stood in the street for a while. Finally, she willed herself to move. She shuffled her feet along the pavement and managed to step over the curb. She was still several blocks from home. She felt drained. Instead of continuing down the sidewalk, she wandered onto the grass. Soon, the cool dew soaked through her shoes. She wanted to lie down, to shut her eyes and forget, but not on the wet grass. She went to a concrete bench that surrounded the trunk of an oak near Bennet Hall.

At the far side, where she couldn’t be seen from the road, she lay down on the bench. She folded her hands beneath her head and let her legs hang off the edge of the circular seat. She closed her eyes.

This is fine, she thought. If Evan comes around again looking for me, he’ll never spot me over here.

The concrete hurt the backs of her hands and her shoulder blades, so she used her purse for a pillow and folded her hands on her belly. That was much better.

Something skittered noisily among the leaves overhead. Squirrels, she thought.

She wished she had a sweater. A blanket would be better. If she had a blanket, maybe she would just stay here all night.

Evan’s got one in the trunk of his car. His make-out blanket. Shit, he got a lot of use out of it with me.

Never again.

Thought I was awake. Sure he did.

The chill of the concrete seeped through the back of her blouse and shorts and seemed to seep into her skin. She felt a cool breeze sliding over her bare arms and legs. It stirred her hair. It smelled moist and fresh.

Her attic room would be hot.

Another good reason not to move.

I couldn’t move if I wanted to, Alison thought. And I don’t want to.

Fuck it all. Fuck everything.

Okay, not the squirrels unless one lands on my face. And not Mom and Dad. And not Celia and Helen. And not pizza. Or John D. MacDonald or Ronald McDonald.

That shit didn’t even get my joke.

Fuck him. Fuck Evan Forbes. And fuck Roland Whatever and how about Professor Blaine because they both look like they want to rip my clothes off? And who else? How about all of them? How about every man everywhere? Helen’s right, they’re nothing but walking cocks looking for a tight hole.

Okay, just most of them.

Alison realized she was gritting her teeth and shivering. She wrapped her arms across her chest.

Stick around here, she thought, and they’ll find you in
the morning like the frozen leopard on Kilimanjaro. They’ll stand around you in awe and say, “What’s she doing here?” And some asshole will probably stick his hand in your blouse. Can’t let a little thing like rigor mortis stand in the way of a cheap feel.

You’re going nuts, Alison.

She rubbed her face. With her arms no longer hugging her chest, the breeze slid over her and stole the warmth from the skin beneath her blouse.

Her attic would be warm, her bed soft.

Enough of this.

She got to her feet and started for home.

The second story windows were dark, but the light at the top of the stairway had been left on. Alison, still shivering, hurried up the stairs and unlocked the door. She stepped inside. The warmth felt wonderful.

Helen must’ve been burning incense. In spite of the breeze coming in through the open windows, a faint pine odor still hung in the air.

No light came from the crack beneath Helen’s bedroom door.

Alison had expected Helen to be waiting up, eager for an account of the night’s events. It must be after eleven, though. With an eight o’clock class in the morning, she had probably decided to forget her curiosity and turn in.

By the dim light from the windows, Alison made her way into the corridor and entered the bathroom. She washed her face. She brushed her teeth. She used the toilet.

Standing in the bathroom doorway for a moment, she got her bearings then switched off the light and angled across the dark hall to the staircase. She climbed the stairs slowly, gliding a hand up the banister.

Her room at the top, illuminated by a gray glow from its single window, seemed almost bright after the blackness of the staircase. Its open curtains trembled slightly in the breeze.

At this distance, Alison couldn’t feel the breeze at all. The room felt stifling, even worse than she had expected.

No middle ground, she thought. You’re either shivering or sweating.

She lowered her purse to the floor, out of the way so she wouldn’t trip over it if she needed to make a late trip to the toilet.

Then she took off her blouse and dropped it to the floor. She unfastened her shorts. She drew them down, along with her panties, and stepped out of them.

The room was still uncomfortably hot, but she could feel a hint of the breeze on her bare skin.

With a glance over her shoulder, she stepped backward to the door of her closet and leaned against it. The door banged shut. She flinched and caught her breath, shocked as much by the support giving way behind her as by the sharp noise.

She took a deep, trembling breath.

She bumped the door with her buttocks.
Now
it was shut all the way.

The smooth, painted wood felt cool on her skin. Braced against it, she raised one leg and pulled off her shoe and sock. Then the other.

At the dresser, she opened a drawer and moved her hand across the clothing. Her fingers slipped over the filmy fabric of the new negligee. It was lighter than the others, and would feel fine on a night such as this. She took it out, carried it past the end of her bed, and stood in front of the window.

The faint breeze drifted in, roaming her skin. Not long ago, the cool air had chilled her to the bone. Now, it felt wonderful. It curled around Alison’s thighs, slipped between her legs, caressed her belly, slid over her breasts and beneath her arms. She dropped the negligee. She placed her hands high on the window frame and spread her legs and closed her eyes.

The soft touch of the breeze moved over her.