Chapter 51

 

 

Huxley asked if he could drive on the way back to his condo. “I like playing the male role once in a while,” he said with a teasing smile.

“You paid for dinner,” she said, acting as though he had taken away one of her privileges.

They had grown up in an era of the double standard but adjusted well to societal changes, could even joke about their roles. Joke, like they had done all through dinner, talked about so many subjects, with a lot of humor that turned to magnetic teasing. Personal comments and gentle touching intended to stimulate thrilled her. She burned with desire she didn’t think she was capable of feeling again. She felt young, frivolous, and daring.

It was great to see the tension drain out of Huxley’s face as the evening wore on. When they arrived at his condo and parked beside his sedan, he grabbed her car keys from the ignition and jumped out, coming round to her side to open her door. Chivalry went right along with the fun of the evening.

“You are so gallant, sir,” she said affectedly, taking his hand and sliding out.

He steered her toward the front door. “How about a night cap?” he asked.

Sara found herself inside and toasting with a mug of decaf before she had time to contemplate what she was doing. He retrieved the car keys from his pocket and dropped them into her opened purse. He leaned slightly across the counter and intensely studied her. “You’re the one,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “You’re the one.”

She loved being with Huxley and didn’t want the evening to end, but that was inevitable. “I really must go,” she said, coming to her senses.

“I was hoping not to hear that,” he said as he came around the end of the counter and reached for her.

Suddenly, she was in Huxley’s arms and past resolves melted in the heat of true passion. “I should go,” she said, hearing desire on her own breath. Huxley kissed her, gently at first and when she could no longer restrain herself, he must have sensed it and his kiss became insistent, till she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his affection. Heartbeat for heartbeat. She could no longer stop herself. She tried to move away. “Huxley, we—” His mouth came hard against hers. His hands were all over her back, her hips, pulling hers toward him until she felt his desire. She wanted more. She wanted him to touch her bare skin. She wanted to touch the hair that swirled over his chest, and feel it against her naked breasts.

Huxley was unbuttoning her blouse and walking her into the bedroom. She became both scared and wanton, beyond stopping. He unfastened the button above the zipper of her slacks and she stepped out of them as he removed his shirt, exposing a magnificent muscular chest with hair that went all the way down to….

Huxley ripped back the bed covers and, in one swoop, picked her up, positioned his knee on the bed, and laid her down. His physical strength surprised her. He turned his back to her and removed his trousers. He was shy about himself. Huxley was shy! He came to bed in his under shorts and pulled up the covers and kissed her longingly. He ran his hands over her yearning body as if wanting every inch of her at once.

His fingertips explored. Her bra fell aside and she squirmed out of her panties as she lay facing him. His fingertips touched her everywhere, without hesitation, followed by his lips. Huxley seemed love-starved.

It was a long time since Sara had been with a man and she felt awkward. She was just as starved. She could now live out the fantasies she conjured about this man. She kissed his chest, dragged her tongue slowly across his nipples, and ran her fingertips any place that made his breath quicken. Together, they went beyond their fantasies. Each time he heard her breath falter he intensified the pleasure. At times he watched her expression. Surely, she had grimaced in sheer ecstasy and had a fleeting moment of embarrassment at being watched. But Huxley wouldn’t allow that for long.

He kicked away the covers and positioned himself farther down the mattress. Sara thought she would surely pass out from the intensity of his probing tongue. When words escaped her throat as nothing more than guttural sounds, he began to bite.

“Hux, no!” she said, though the words seemed barely discernable.

He continued to bite, just hard enough so that she felt stimulated beyond belief. She had wanted him and was getting her wish. “Love me,” she said, begging, because she could take no more foreplay. She needed penetration, hard and fast. She needed to be taken, but he continued the rapture with his tongue.

Finally, he climbed on top. “Hard,” she said. “Hux.” But her voice came out on faltering breaths. She dug her fingertips into his hips and pulled him toward her.

Huxley took her. The way she needed. The way he needed. A feeble scream escaped her throat. Hearing him moan his pleasure enhanced her enjoyment. He held back nothing and didn’t stop his forceful thrusts until she was satisfied. Even then, he continued until his massive orgasm overtook him and he moaned loudly with each spasm. Then he collapsed onto the sheets beside her.

She lay quiet while her breath and heart rate calmed, too awed to move or speak. He drifted off fast, but strangely, as he slept, kept hold of her wrist and wouldn’t let go.

 

*

 

Sara bolted awake as if someone had shot a gun off in the room. Fear erupted from a deep crevasse in her mind.

She tried to keep her anxiety and fright under control. Why was she having these thoughts this night?

She had to get a grip on her thoughts, but they kept coming.

She began to tremble.

She tried to reason it out. Why would someone like Huxley turn into a killer? Because he lost his brother and his mind snapped? That was the only reason she could come up with because she knew not much else about him. She trembled fiercely. She had to get out of bed before he woke.

Sara grabbed up her clothes and stood in the darkened bathroom and dressed. When she came out into the bedroom, Huxley wore his slacks and blocked the bedroom doorway. “What are you doing?” he asked, still sleepy. He dragged a hand over his face.

Sara was scared. Her libido and loneliness had swept away all caution. “I shouldn’t be here,” she said. “Too soon. This shouldn’t have…too soon.”

“Is that a reason to leave?”

“Please,” she said, motioning for him to step aside. “Let me go.”

He still blocked the doorway. “I’m not letting you get away now.”

His words filled her with dread. Her heart continued to pound and her pulse throbbed up the side of her neck. She looked for a weapon and saw only the oversized lamp on the dresser across the room. She did not want to anger him and managed a tighter grip on her purse, which was all she had if she needed to bash him. He took a step toward her and she stepped back. “Look, I’m leaving, okay?”

Huxley stared at her for a moment with a look of confusion, then disappointment and anger. He spun around and went directly to the front door. She followed. He held it open and made no move to detain her. “Strange,” he said. “I hadn’t pegged you as a one-nighter.”

His words cut deep. Still, Sara eased by him and out the door and never looked back.

 

Chapter 52

 

 

Sara drove like a reckless teenager. She almost missed her turn onto the Hood-Franklin Road to head west again, and it wasn’t due to any fog. She passed the Franklin Cemetery and her mind flashed on Crazy Ike. Ike Ames was just a little off center in his mind, but was not schizoid, and had no record of doing much harm.

Who did Huxley think he was, asking to drive and keeping the car keys? She, then, had to get out of the car to walk around to the driver’s side, only to have him con and cajole her to going inside.

You’re the one, he had said. “The one what? His next victim?” She gritted her teeth. “I don’t think so!”

The morning sun hadn’t yet shown but began to lighten the sky from below the horizon. Sara crested the levee at Hood, finding a measure of peace in dawn breaking over the Sacramento River, shadowed by flocks of migrating birds. Seeing the river water under a waning moon reminded that she needed a shower. Wash that man right off, and scrub away the false sense of romance and bliss.

She skidded to a stop her the gravel driveway, not bothering to park in the garage. She headed straight to her bedroom for a change of clothes. She yanked clothes from hangers and turned to the dresser for fresh underwear, finding the top drawer half open. She never left drawers open but must have left it that way during her morning rush.

“How did I allow my excitement over a man make me forget things?” she asked, mumbling.

Sara pulled the drawer farther out. She picked through her underclothes and then closed the drawer. As she turned to head toward the bathroom, she stopped cold. She turned back, pulled the drawer open, stuck her hand inside, and felt around.

Gone!

Her pistol was gone! Someone had been inside her house. She trembled violently. She tried to remember if she had moved it.

“Of course not.”

Her hand went immediately to her cell phone and she pushed the code for the Aldens.

“Hello,” the voice croaked into the phone.

“Buck?”

“Huh?” he asked, sounding like he was fumbling with seeing the clock on the nightstand. “Sara? It’s not even sun-up.”

“Buck,” she said. “My pistol. It’s gone. The bullets, the holster—”

He gasped through the phone and she heard him come awake. “What? When? Tell me.”

“I spent the night with a friend in Sacramento,” she said. “I’ve just arrived home and the dresser drawer was open and—”

“Sara! Get the hell out of there. Now!”

“What?”

“You haven’t been home all night and someone’s been inside your house? Get out!” he said. “Get the hell out! Head over here…and don’t hang up.”

Goosebumps erupted over her body. She went swiftly but quietly to the back door, aware of every little noise in the house, expecting someone to come at her at any moment. She made it out the back porch door and heard the lock click. She didn’t know why, perhaps out of habit, she reached behind her and made sure the screen door caught and held.

“I’m in my car,” she said. She imagined the killer popping up like a ghoul at the driver’s door. Worse than when Crazy Ike popped up that night in the fog. She slammed her fist on the buttons that locked the doors and frantically started the engine.

“Drive, Sara, drive!” Buck said. “Someone could still be in there.”

Sara’s heart raced, sharp and urgent, like the roll of a marching drummer. Her tires threw gravel. She crested the levee going too fast while trying to manipulate the steering wheel with one hand. She dropped the cell phone. “Buck?” she yelled toward the phone on the floor. “Can you hear me? I dropped my phone.”

His voice was distant but still came through. She slowed to a crawl and bent down and retrieved the phone as the SUV wobbled side to side. In a moment, she said, “Okay, I’m on the levee. I’m away.”

“I’m heading in your direction. You head toward our house,” Buck said. His voice shook, sounding like he was struggling with something, maybe getting dressed. “I want to meet you on the levee road so I’ll know you’re safe.”

“Okay,” she said. She continued to tremble.

“I’m gonna hang up, gonna call Johanna,” he said. “Keep coming this way.”

After closing her phone and tucking it between her thighs, Sara began to cry. She wiped her eyes. “Oh, no!” she said. Someone had been inside her house and it wasn’t Huxley. “Oh, no!” she said again. Huxley courted her. The stalker threatening her life was clearly someone else. “What have I done?” she asked, screaming.

She found a wide turnout on the shoulder of the road, stomped her brakes, and slid to a stop. She punched in the numbers of Huxley’s cell phone. “Please, Huxley….” His voice mail kicked in. That meant he was still sleeping. She turned off the phone and angrily threw it onto the pile of clothing on the passenger seat. She accelerated and spun around, heading back to Sacramento. As she passed Talbot House and glanced over, she understood that she had left the lights on but locked the doors, yet the back porch door stood wide open and the screen door swung with the breeze.