“Turn that damned thing off, I’m trying to sleep,” Kirk growled.
“Well, I want to dance,” she said.
He turned over and lunged toward the little recorder, but she grabbed it and placed it out of his reach.
"Did I ever tell you that back in my college days I used to be a dancer? Yeah, I worked my way through college bumping and grinding."
His eyes followed the recorder, wishing it would suddenly run low on batteries. “You told me your parents had money. Why the hell would you have to work?”
“You know how parents are,” she said, wiggling her hips as she danced toward him. “They went on a crusade to teach their rebellious daughter the value of a dollar and took away all my credit cards. So, I became a dancer. Funny—” She leaned down close to him. “—I was the most popular girl on campus.”
Kirk whirled around, trying to get away from her hot breath and husky voice, but she followed him. “This is a hospital, for God’s sake, Chyna, not a strip joint.” He kept turning, trying to keep his back to her, but she was all over the room.
Chyna watched Kirk's face. He tried to keep his eyes off her, but couldn't resist cutting them over occasionally to watch her seductive movements. At every bump, his head would jump, and at every grind, he broke out in a cold sweat.
He edged toward the bedside table and angrily grabbed at the phone. "Hey, what the hell kinda hospital are you running here?" He looked down at the phone, puzzled at the dead line, then jumped up and ran for the door, but it was locked.
Chyna danced up to him, swaying her hips in and out, and from side to side. She danced around him, rubbing herself against him, then began backing up toward the bed, motioning for Kirk to follow her.
Feeling himself on the brink of losing it, Kirk tried to turn his eyes away. "Where in hell is that damn doctor?" he said weakly. And then when Chyna began to slowly undress, Kirk lost it, his eyes suddenly full of fire. He roughly grabbed Chyna and threw her down on the bed.
As Kirk fell on top of her, Chyna looked up at the shadowy ceiling of Kirk's dark hospital room and submitted to his wild, untamed brand of love—her lips tugging upward in a mixture of ecstasy and triumph.
The next morning Dr. Wilder walked up to Kirk's door and put his ear against it. Not hearing anything he unlocked it quietly, looked inside and saw Chyna and Kirk lying in each other's arms. He smiled, closed the door and locked it. Turning to the guard, he said. "I’ll give them another half an hour, then we'll have to get them up." He indicated to the watch. "How's it working?"
"Good." The husky young orderly looked at him with an innocent, lamb-like smile on his face. "Didn't lose a minute all night."
The doctor walked away smiling and shaking his head. With everything that went on in that room last night, the only thing Frank was interested in was his new Rolex. If Frank was any indication, the future population of the world was in trouble.
Just then the doctor looked up and saw Elaine rushing out of the elevator carrying some clothes for Chyna. She quickly ran up to the nurse's station. "I need Dr. Wilder, get Dr. Wilder!" Just then she looked around and saw him. "Vincent, I couldn't find Quinn anywhere. He's disappeared."
“Elaine,” the doctor said, looking at Elaine with reproof. “We’re at the hospital.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, looking around to see who might have heard her. “I forgot.”
"Now, what is this? Who's disappeared?"
"Quinn,” Elaine said with a worried look on her face. “When I got to the mansion I looked everywhere but he's not there."
"So what? He's probably just out, that's all."
"His bedroom was in chaos." She looked impatient when he didn't say anything. "There's something wrong, I just know it."
"Elaine, settle down for God's sake." He turned her toward Kirk's room. "Hurry and get Chyna's clothes to her, and I'll check it out."
Elaine rushed off one way and Dr. Wilder another. He found the paramedics that were just going off duty and began to question them. They assured him they had searched the whole mansion and didn’t find anybody at home. They also confirmed that the bedroom was in chaos, and had no choice but to leave.
With a worried look on his face, the doctor went back to Kirk's room and went in.
Chyna looked up at him. "What's wrong, Doctor?"
"I've just come from Emergency. They tell me they didn't find Quinn at the mansion last night, and they assured me they searched everywhere." He indicated toward Elaine. "Elaine searched again this morning, and he's still not there."
Kirk looked at both of them. "So what's the problem? He's just out, that's all. He’s into investments and has business to conduct occasionally, he'll be back."
Chyna put her arms around Elaine. "Sure, that must be it. After all Quinn isn't exactly helpless, I'm sure he'll show up later today."
Elaine nodded. “I guess so,” she said thinly, still looking worried.
"All right," The doctor said, rubbing his hands together as if anticipating some fun. "Get yourselves up and get moving. Elaine and I are taking you both out to breakfast."
Kirk looked at the doctor with a smirk on his face. "Why doctor, I thought you were supposed to be on call today."
"Did I say that? He scratched his head, and his laugh sounded guilty. "I just don't know what's wrong with my head lately. I just can't seem to keep my schedule straight."
"But doctor," Chyna said, with a message in her eyes. "I had something I wanted to talk with Kirk about." She lowered her voice, and cut her eyes over toward Kirk. "You know…privately?"
Looking over at Kirk's preoccupation with his shoes and socks, the doctor took Chyna's arm and led her out in the hall. "Chyna, I don't know if you realize it or not, but you're going to need someone with you when you tell him. This is an extremely volatile situation and has to be handled very carefully. If his temper flares again, there's no telling what he'll do."
Chyna frowned at the doctor. "Doctor, you talk as if Kirk is dangerous."
"Chyna, I assure you, he's not dangerous to anyone but himself. He's the type that flies off the handle easily, and I don't think he's going to take the news about your book too well. If there is an explosion, you're going to need someone there to pick up the pieces."
"Really, doctor, he may call me names and tell me to go to hell, but that's as far as it’ll go." She saw the skeptical look on his face. "Okay, so we’ll do it your way. But I hate for you to waste your time."
"Nothing would make me happier than to be wasting my time at this point. Believe me, I hope you're right."
Continuing their conversation as they were walking back in, Chyna asked the doctor, "But why are we going out? Why don't we just go to the cafeteria?"
"Please, Chyna, the doctor said, frowning. "The coffee is bad enough, but the food is lethal." He looked at everyone standing around, then stretched out his hands. "So…is everybody ready to go?" His head suddenly turned toward Elaine. "Do you know where we're going?"
"A little cafe down by the landing."
As they were walking out the door, Chyna took Kirk's arm and smiled up at him lovingly. Then looking over at their disheveled bed, she thought about their beautiful night together, wondering if it would be their last.
The short ride to the High Coast Cafe was nerve wracking for Chyna. When they finally arrived and everyone was walking up to the door, something caught her eye and she stopped to read a headline.
Erotica Writer, Chyna Marsh, tells story of Mystery Man.
"My God!" she muttered to herself. "Don't they have anything better to write about? Talk about a slow news day, where in hell are all the crooked politicians when you need them?"
She quickly glanced ahead at the others, dug through her change purse, and grabbed a copy.
When the foursome walked in, the doctor looked around. "I don't know, we might have done better at the hospital cafeteria. At least our deaths would have been quick."
"I'm sorry," Elaine said, "but this is the only place open this early."
"Well, it has a nice view," he said as they all turned and looked through the wall of windows at the shining ocean, the only thing the little cafe had to offer. Turning to the waiter, the doctor ordered four Southern Style Breakfasts, and a pot of coffee for the table.
Once the order was placed, Chyna caught the doctor's eye, indicated to the paper, and handed it to him.
He opened it and looked at it for a moment, then looked up at Kirk. Elaine saw the headline over the doctor's shoulder and looked up at Kirk.
"What's everyone looking at?" Kirk asked, snatching the paper out of the doctor's hands.
Chyna spoke softly as she watched his eyes scan the headlines. "Are you going to give me a chance to explain, or are you going to fly off the handle like you usually do?"
After Kirk had read the blistering headlines, he began speaking with a soft turbulence building in his voice. "My God, I can't believe it. You lied to me. You've been lying to me ever since I've known you." He turned to her with fire in his eyes. "Quinn said you wanted a plot for a new book, but I wouldn't believe him."
"Kirk, please. You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly. You've been writing behind my back." He shoved the paper in her face, and his voice rose. "Tell me, Chyna, did you write this book like you did all the others? What did you do, spend the night with me, then go up and put it all down on paper? Were you careful to describe every kiss, every stroke, every moan, every groan? Did you describe in detail everything we did?"
"Kirk, I didn’t mean to hurt you."
"No? What in hell did you think it would do?"
The doctor watched Kirk, ready to step in if he got out of control, and Elaine cringed in her seat, never having seen Kirk so angry. She turned to look at the other people in the restaurant, and smiled weakly at those who were looking their way.
Kirk’s eyes glinted with unshed tears. "Tell me, Chyna, did you tell the world how it felt to be fucked by a monster? Huh? Did you make it exciting? Those women reading the friggin' book, will they want to know how it was in the dark with a Frankenstein?" He leaned down and yelled into her face. "Well if they do, I'm sure you'll tell them!"
"Kirk, if you’d only listen—"
“All right, so tell me.” He indicated to the others at the table. “Tell all of us. Did you leave anything out? Did you tell them what the monster was like in bed?"
"Kirk, please—"
"Did you describe a wild man, Chyna? Did you tell them that I satisfied you like no man ever has before? Did you tell them how different it was with me than with a normal man? And I'm sure you didn't leave out how you came down to the basement and seduced the poor deformed freak, huh?"
Chyna turned her face away from his, but Kirk grabbed her face and turned it back, forcing her to look at him.
"Did you tell them that it had been so long since he'd had a woman that he went wild on top of you. Or maybe you told them how it felt to be all shut up in a cage with an iron door? Do you think the world wants to know how it felt when the scarred face kissed you, or when the freak was so grateful he told you he loved you? Oh yeah! I'm sure you didn't leave anything out. I'm sure you and your readers will have a good laugh over that one, huh?"
"Kirk," Chyna sobbed, looking around, "your causing a scene!"
"So what? Don't you exist on publicity?”
"What in hell did I do that was so wrong?"
Kirk leaned into her face. "You exploited our relationship, Chyna, and you lied to me. You know," he said, forcing a chuckle, "I can't wait to read this book. I want to read about the poor, pitiful monster that bought you a ring, and stupidly hid it inside a friggin' Cracker Jack box for you to find." Kirk looked at her as if he were going to cry, then threw the ring down on the table in front of her. "Well, you should be damned proud of yourself, Ms. Marsh. You've got fingers pointing at me from here to California. With your sexy little seductions you finally lured me out of my prison all right, but by writing this goddamned, fuckin' book, you've just slammed the door shut on me again. What was it all for, Chyna, just so you could write a bestseller? Didn't you think someone might get hurt, or didn't you care?” He jumped up from the table and comically took the form of a chimp and danced around. “Why in hell don't you put a rope around my neck and lead me around like an ape? What should I do when the camera turns toward me? Dance a jig? Grunt like a gorilla?"
"Kirk, for God's sake, calm down! What in hell are you afraid of? You think it'll be like this forever? Well, you're wrong. It'll die down before you know it, then you'll just be another news item that'll grow cold when something different comes along.”
“It will, huh? Well it won’t be soon enough for me!” he yelled as he reached for a chair and threw it across the room. Like a mad man he took giant strides, turning tables over, angrily knocking place settings off the tables, and slicing his arm along a table of glasses.
Chyna started toward him, but Dr. Wilder stepped in front of her. "Chyna, don't. You'll get hurt. Just leave him alone and let him battle it out. When his rage is spent, he'll come back to you."