DEATH IN THE DUNES
A George ‘Mac’ McClain Novel
Book 5 in the Series
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 by Will Decker
This eBook is a work of fiction. All names, places, and characters are strictly from the imagination of the author and bear no connection to any place or person living or dead. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
I want to thank all of my devoted fans and readers for making this story possible. Without each and every one of you making the effort to purchase my books, I would probably have become more self-indulgent in my writing than I already am. It is your continued support that ultimately makes this endeavor of time and effort worthwhile. Of course, it would be a lie if I said I didn’t write for the sheer joy of it, also. Some enjoy skydiving, some fishing, and some hunting. I enjoy taking trips into the unknown depths of my imagination; I am truly honored that there are those of you who enjoy riding shotgun.
An affectionate ‘Thank you’ must be extended to my lovely wife also for all the patience and support she has repeatedly shown me; with love, I thank you. Will Decker
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DEATH IN THE DUNES
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Somewhere along the Oregon Coast
“Mac, when was the last time you did anything that you really enjoyed besides drinking or having sex?” she asks, her voice leading.
“Come on now, Eddy,” I weakly protest, immediately sensing where the conversation is headed. We’d been together for almost a year now and except for a lot of hot and sweaty sessions in the bedroom, broken up only by nights out at the local cocktail lounge with me getting drunk and making an ass of myself, I had to begrudgingly admit, we hadn’t really done anything in the way of formal entertainment for a long while, if ever. And even though I’m not complaining, mind you, I’m not so insensitive that I don’t realize a woman has needs that far exceed those of your normal male.
While intently studying the open brochure laid out on the coffee table before her, she gingerly sips from her beer and carefully places the sweating longneck on a cork coaster before continuing, “I think it sounds like fun.”
“I’m sorry, Eddy,” I weakly argue, my resistance fading quickly. “But the fascination of riding crazily over mounds of sand at breakneck speeds on little four-wheeled machines when you’re not being shot at or chased just doesn’t make much sense to me.”
In all our time together, I’d never succeeded in denying her anything, and this time wasn’t going to be any exception. For reasons that made no sense to me, she was determined to try out this thing they called quading.
Sensing my wavering resistance, along with her intimate knowledge of my inability to resist her, she happily smiles and points to a large ad in the brochure. Her voice softening, she says, “It says here, we can stay in a luxury hotel and they’ll arrange everything. We can go out on a tour in one of their large bus-type vehicles with a bunch of other people, or we can do our own thing on individual four-wheeled machines, quads for short. They pick us up at the hotel and deliver us right to the staging area with the quads all fueled, serviced, and ready to go.” And then in a more conciliatory tone of voice adds, “You won’t have to lift a finger, just enjoy yourself.”
Hearing the growing fervor in her voice, I realize that I might as well concede while her spirits are high. Just maybe, I can salvage something out of it for me too. Because even though I’m not too excited about the prospect of getting my shorts full of sand, anything is better than arguing with a woman, especially this woman. And besides, an argument will only prolong the inevitable while forfeiting any chance of eventually seducing her into joining me in the bedroom later. Worst case scenario still has me picking the restaurant tonight. So either way, by simply agreeing to go along with her, I get something out of it. In my limited way of thinking, it’s all good.
I know that sounds selfish, but a man has to do what a man has to do, and that means looking out for oneself.
“You know, maybe that isn’t such a bad idea after all,” I slowly concur, suddenly wondering what could be so bad about a ride on the dunes; aside from the fact that we would be sharing it with a couple of dozen other screaming tourists, their cameras flying dangerously about their heads on short little nylon cords, threatening to impact both themselves and everyone else within range. Oh yeah, great fun.
“Does it say what amenities the hotel offers?” I ask, thinking silently to myself that a bubbling hot tub sporting a lot of foamy suds and a bottle of West Indies rum the night before might just make her forget all about the ride before it even has a chance to get off the ground. Especially if the day starts off like a typical day on the coast; overcast, drizzly, a damp breeze, and temps in the low forties. Hell, if I’m lucky, they might even be in the low thirties.
“I’ll find out when I call to make the reservations,” she says victoriously while smiling impishly over the brochure at me as if she’s reading my mind.
She knows the only reason I’m not putting up more of a fuss is because I’ve decided to salvage what I can from the situation. If I know her as well as I think I do, her next move will be trying to keep me from scoring on that point too. Or, if I know her at all, she’s already planning how she’s going to make me work for that as well.
Rising from the overstuffed recliner setting across the coffee table from her, I scoop up our depleted beer bottles and stroll into the kitchen, asking over my shoulder if she’s up to one more or if she’d prefer coffee instead. It was early evening, dinner not far off, and I didn’t want to risk being harassed for driving under the influence, even though we’d only nursed three or four beers all day.
Most days spent lounging around drinking beer landed us at Mario’s Pizzeria. Although I’m not big on pizza, Mario’s made a pretty fair crust, thick and chewy, and moreover, his shop was only a few hundred feet from our front door; nice and convenient.
Tonight, however, we were going to go a little farther afield, since I was doing the picking.
“Coffee’s good,” she replies, leaning back on the sofa and glancing absently out the bay window overlooking the front drive and the residential street beyond. “You must be planning on driving?”
“Absolutely,” I reply, dropping the empties in the recycling bin and reaching for the tin of coffee next to the pot. “If you’re going to pick our entertainment, I think it’s only right that I should be allowed the choice of where we get our sustenance,” I quip, dumping grounds and water into the pot.
For reasons that I won’t profess to understand and will always elude me, we each fell into different domestic roles since moving in together. For instance, I never do laundry; though I originally tried, I only succeeded in dying my white T’s, her white bras, panties, and other light colored garments, a pretty shade of pink. Nope, that role immediately thereafter became Eddy’s. And although she despises doing laundry, she considers it less aggravating than replacing most of our clothes on a weekly basis.
We don’t stay at home and cook very often either. But when we do, it’s usually me in the kitchen while Eddy sets the table and follows up with the dishes afterwards, just like it’s my role to make the coffee. Anytime, day or night that we decide to have coffee, the task falls to me. It’s not that she can’t or won’t make coffee, it’s just an unspoken rule that the task is all mine.
While the coffee pot does its thing, I saunter back into the front room, taking up a stance between her and the bay window, my gaze taking in the cool, late-fall scene outside.
Something doesn’t seem right and I turn a questioning look toward Eddy, instantly noticing the seriousness of her expression. “You see it too?” I casually inquire, turning back to the street outside just in time to see a black sedan pull away from the curb and do an illegal ‘U’-turn in the middle of the street before accelerating away. I continue watching until it shoots around a corner, hanging a left onto 8th Street, which leads directly to the Pacific Coast Highway, or simply one-oh-one as the locals refer to it.
With the sedan lost from sight, I turn back toward Eddy in time to see her face relaxing. Softly, she growls at me, her voice betraying an unmistakable tone of reprimand, “I was watching them watch us until you made it obvious that we’d spotted them.”
Ignoring the tone of her voice, I indignantly remark, “You could have given me a heads up.”
When she doesn’t immediately respond, I drop the defensive animosity and ask instead, “Any idea who might be interested in us?”
“Could be someone checking us out before they propose a job offer, or it might be someone we crossed paths with somewhere in our past and they’re holding a grudge,” she casually remarks, glancing toward the kitchen as the coffee pot dings twice to alert us that it’s ready.
Heading into the kitchen, I ask, “You didn’t happen to catch the plate on it, did you?”
“Sorry, I forgot to put my bionic eye in this morning,” she ironically quips. And then quickly adds, “Maybe if I wasn’t being molested every waking minute, I might have remembered.”
“Not just when you’re awake,” I tease, smiling at her as I carry in two cups of steaming brew.
Smirking, she wittingly quips back, “What makes you think I’m asleep? Women have been known to be pretty good at faking things, you know.”
Placing the cups on the coffee table, I lean further in than necessary and plant a kiss on her full, inviting lips, my tongue lingering moistly, challenging her to return the gesture.
Reaching up, she brusquely pushes me away, turning her head to the side to further deter any continued advance. “Mac, really, is that all you ever have on your mind?”
“No, sometimes I actually think about something else, just can’t remember what it was,” I tease with a smirk of my own.
“You’re terrible.”
*1*
Falling back into the recliner, I continue smiling roguishly at her while she places a call to the hotel listed on the brochure. Finding my funny faces and smirks distracting, she finally presses the phone against her chest and hisses at me, “Knock it off, I’m trying to make reservations! I thought you wanted to know what amenities came with the room.”
Momentarily subdued by her sudden outburst, I settle back into my seat and silently ponder the black sedan instead. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that the manner in which it took off when the occupants realized we were looking back at them has me more than a little bit concerned.
The most logical explanation, and one that is also the least alarming, is the possibility that someone is considering hiring us. But before doing so, they are having us checked out by a private investigating firm. Or, if it’s a large corporation that needs our services, the sedan might be their own security people doing background on us. If that’s the case, and I’m hoping it is, it’s not the first time it’s happened.
A worst case scenario is the possibility that someone we dealt with in the past is out seeking revenge against us. And although this thought might be unsettling to most people, Eddy and I are no strangers to violence; we are more than capable of taking care of ourselves.
Yet, I silently remind myself to check my magnum before we head out tonight. I’ve carried the same weapon with me since I was in special operations in the military. It’s a stainless steel, double action revolver sporting a shortened barrel modified with tighter rifling for increased long range accuracy. It holds six .357 magnum rounds and is equipped with Pac Myer grips for better handling in extreme conditions. It’s never let me down.
After a few moments of friendly banter on the phone, Eddy subconsciously smiles, thanks the individual on the other end of the line and hangs up the receiver. Lifting her coffee to her lips and taking a sip before settling back on the couch, she smiles at me and says, “You’ll be happy to know, the room comes with pool and hot tub privileges and there’s a wet bar, of which the first twenty dollars on the tab is complimentary in the package.”
She says it with blunt finality in her voice, clearly expressing her disappointment regarding my attitude toward the venture.
“I’m sorry, Eddy,” I humbly remark. Then, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel, add, “Actually, it might be kind of fun. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll finally figure out what the excitement is all about.”
Smiling, a hint of relief showing in her eyes, she replies, “I’m glad you’re willing to give it a try, even if you are just humoring me.” When I smile encouragingly, she asks, “Where are we going for dinner tonight?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me more about the hotel and rides first?”
“I’ll tell you over dinner,” she quips, setting her cup on the table and rising to her feet. “How should I dress, casual or classy?”
Jumping to my feet and cutting her off on the way to the bedroom, I grab her around the waist and spin her around to face me. “Babe, you’re always classy,” I mouth in the moment before planting my lips over hers.
To my surprise, I’m not met with resistance. Instead, her lips are warm, moist, and very inviting as her hands gently encircle my waist, pulling me tighter against her.
“Do we have time, or are you getting hungry?” she breathes, her voice husky with the growing fervor of passion.
Smiling enthusiastically, I reach down and lift her off the floor by her buttocks, savoring the firmness of her flesh between my fingers. “I’m hungrier than you know,” I reply with quickening breath. “Food will just have to wait.”
With our lips mashed together, I carry her into the bedroom and throw her roughly to the bed, my hands going instantly to my belt as I hastily scramble to break free of my clothes.
Even before my jeans hit the floor, I’ve yanked my T-shirt over my head and tossed it recklessly to the side. By this time, Eddy has slipped out of her blouse; her full, ripe breasts and swollen nipples taunting me, further fueling the anticipation.
Lying back on the bed again, she has managed to unzip her jeans and is arching her pelvis up in a hurried effort to slip them off. Grabbing them by the ankles, I jerk them down below her knees, her feet kicking them the rest of the way off as I climb over her, my tongue gliding wetly up the smooth length of her thigh.
While my hands coarsely caress her hips and waist, she moans softly, her fingers entangling in my hair, pulling my face up to hers.
I catch just the briefest of nibbles on her right breast in passing before her hands slide into the small concave at the nape of my neck and then forcefully guide my lips to hers. When we come together, I feel the warm moistness of her mouth, the sound of her breath hissing in and out in short gasps loud in my right ear as her right hand slips deliciously down my side, setting the small hairs of my flesh on edge.
With a precision that can only come from experience, her hand slides down the rippling muscles of my belly, pausing briefly to enfold the fullness of my manhood before gently squeezing it in an act of complete possession and control.
Tilting her head back, her eyes gazing deeply into mine with an unspoken challenge, she no longer moves with any urgency. Her actions now slow and methodical, she deftly guides my swollen manhood into her, the warmth of her sending a tingling shiver of excitement down my spine, jumping from nerve to nerve until the full force of it collects in the small of my back.
Sensing the reaction of my body to her touch, she smiles coyly with contentment and satisfaction, her eyes continuing to gaze into mine.
If there was any doubt as to who possesses all the power in this relationship, it has just been dispelled by my overt display of vulnerability; she is my one weakness, my single vulnerability.
With calculated tenderness, I push deeply into her moistness, feeling her body involuntarily tighten around my engorged staff while savoring the slow exhalation of her breath as it becomes her turn to shiver in response.
Taking a deep breath, her eyes momentarily flicker, and then her hands suddenly clench tightly on the muscles of my buttocks, roughly pulling me deeper into her.
She arches her back, a small gasp escaping her lips just before I cover them with my hungry mouth, my tongue slipping through our lips in search of her tongue.
In response, she bites down hungrily on the tip of my tongue, causing me to flinch from the sharp sting of pain and instantly pull away. Letting go of my tongue, she leans back and laughs in my face while squeezing her thighs tightly against my hips to prevent me from pulling out.
Realizing that she is in a playful mood, I quickly respond, rolling over onto my side, pulling her along with me. When I am on my back, my hands firmly gripping her buttocks in place, I drive my manhood upward, using the bed springs for lift-off. Within moments, she is riding up and down as if aboard a wild bronco, her breathing harsh and labored, her breasts bouncing wildly just above my face.
With each downward jouncing of them, I hungrily stretch upward, my teeth bared, trying to grasp them in my mouth, the rock hard nipples just barely beyond reach. Yet, I sense, more than actually feel their firm roughness against my tongue and cheek, a stream of saliva flinging wildly from my open mouth, landing on the brown tinged points of her nipples, the slickness of the moisture on them increasing the difficulty of my efforts tenfold.
A wickedly delicious smile lights up her face as she realizes my futile attempts at grasping her in my mouth, and immediately the driving force behind her gyrations increases in strength. With each upward rise of her writhing body, my manhood threatens to slip free. And then, just as suddenly, it’s thrust to its full length within her and another loud rush of breath escapes our lungs as one.
Although the air within the apartment unit is dry and warm compared to the cool dampness outside, a cool bead of perspiration quickly coats our laboring bodies with a slick sheen, our hearts hammering within the confines of our heaving chests, threatening to burst free in a rage of fevered lust for human flesh.
We are on fire, our passion consuming us with no respect for boundaries. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that this is the hottest sex we’ve had in ages, and I begin to wonder if it has anything to do with the dark sedan and the two occupants within watching us from the street.
Is it possible that she has been missing our former lifestyle as much as I have; that she’s been bored with our sedentary, and also solitary, past few months? Has she missed the thrill of the game as much as I?
She instantly picks up on my momentary distraction, and the energy behind her thrusts quickly tapers off, leaving no doubt that an orgasmic climax is out of the picture, for both of us.
As she lowers herself down on me, the smile having faded from her beautiful face, I playfully slip a breast into my mouth and nibble gently at the soft little nipple. Though it’s a vain effort to reignite the passion of just moments before, to my surprise, she neither pulls away, nor does she extricate herself from my still swollen penis.
Slowly, she lowers her head to my chest and firmly pulls her breast free of my mouth. Her voice still husky with emotion, she softly whispers, “That was good.”
Gently caressing her back with the tips of my fingers, I whisper softly into her hair, “I love you, Eddy.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe into her short golden locks. “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging.”
Lifting her head just enough to meet my gaze, she smiles and says, “Sex isn’t all about having orgasms.”
“No,” I smile back at her. “But they just seem to make it more worthwhile.”
With a start, she pushes up and lifts herself free of my grasp, huffing lightly with disgust at my comment. “You men are all alike. You all have this attitude that if it doesn’t feel good and give immediate rewards, what’s the point in it.”
Letting her slip free, I smile playfully, enjoying her feigned angry outburst, which only prompts her to react harsher. With a hard fist against my bare chest, she pushes off the bed and rises gracefully to her feet, an angry glare burning hotly from her eyes. I suddenly wonder if she is still feigning the anger or if indeed it has turned real.
Before I can ask her, she turns and trots into the bathroom, the cheeks of her ass bouncing spritely with each step. I am again reminded how beautiful she is and that my manhood is still standing at the ready.
I prop myself up on the bed looking after the closed bathroom door, suddenly intent on chasing her into the bathroom. But then just as quickly, I think better of it. Something set her off and until I discover what it was or let it diffuse itself through no effort of mine, it is better to give her some space. After dinner tonight and a few glasses of wine, we can pick up where we left off.
*2*
While she’s in the bathroom, I use the kitchen sink to freshen up and put on some decent clothes for the evening. When I finish, she is still in the bathroom, so I take the opportunity to pick up the place, collecting the empty beer bottles and washing the coffee cups before setting them in the dish strainer to dry. Out of habit, I also set up the coffee pot so it’ll be ready in case we need a cup later on when we get back.
When I finish these little chores and she still hasn’t come out of the bathroom, I cautiously approach the bathroom door, torn between knocking on it and just leaving her to her own devices.
Against my better judgment, I tentatively tap on the door. From within, I hear a muted mumbling, “What?”
“I was just curious as to how much longer you’re going to be,” I reply, trying to instill empathy and a touch of humility in my voice.
To my surprise, the door slowly opens and she timidly peeks out, her face glowing with a warm flush, her body barely concealed in a large bath towel. She appears weak and innocent, in need of protection, and a part of me suddenly finds her irresistible. In that moment, I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and make mad, passionate love to her, to consume her with my fiery lust.
Pushing the door the rest of the way open, I step toward her, my arms reaching out to her. The towel slips to the floor and her warm body slips lithely up against me, her hands reaching up behind my neck and pulling my face to her own.
Her lips are hot and moist, tinged with the salt of tears; her tongue slips past my lips, further fueling the fire that is still smoldering within my loins.
Pulling back for a second, I softly whisper, “Baby, we’re going to be late.”
“Shut up and make love to me,” she huskily replies, the image of the sweet innocent girl in need of protection immediately dispelled and replaced by an image of a siren in command.
She places her hands upon my chest and forces me backwards toward the bed. When I move without resisting, she quickly unbuttons the shirt that I just moments earlier put on. My own hands slide down her smooth skin, and then fumble wildly at the button holding my pants shut.
Even before I can get the zipper undone, her hands are intertwined with mine as she tries hurrying me.
When the backs of my knees are up against the mattress, I let myself go and land flat on my back on the recently made bed. With all the passion and patience of a wild animal, she yanks my pants down around my ankles and climbs up on top of me, a knee planted firmly on either side of my hips while she looks down on me. In her eyes is a picture of triumph, as one that has just conquered an insurmountable task. Or one that just killed a trophy ram.
My manhood is standing erect, reaching hungrily toward her still damp bush. Yet, she remains just out of reach, toying with me like a cat with a mouse.
When I place my hands on her buttocks, she casually pushes them away, prolonging the game that she is playing with me; savoring it like a perfectly cooked piece of steak.
When I look into her deep blue eyes, I see a spark of the old flame that’s been missing of late, and I realize with no small amount of excitement that we’re going to be eating late tonight.
*3*
By the time we leave the apartment it’s already a little after 10 P.M., and although we were both excited by the appearance of the sedan earlier in the day and what it might signify, to my relief there isn’t any sign of it on the street now. Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re not watching us; they might just have gotten better at it.
To this point, I haven’t let on to Eddy where we’re going. For no reason in particular, I want to surprise her, and although we don’t have reservations, I’m hoping that because we’re so late, we might even end up with the place all to ourselves.
“Where are we going?” she asks again for at least the third time, as I steer her toward the convertible Midget parked along the curb. “We’re not walking?”
“Not tonight,” I reply, getting the door for her.
As she lowers herself down on the seat, I take a long thoughtful gaze at her exposed thighs, her skirt having hiked up from the effort.
“You’re a dog,” she smiles coyly, enjoying the hungry leer.
Pushing the door shut, I silently grin to myself before scurrying around the backside of the car and climbing into the driver’s seat. The car is not very comfortable for a man of my stature, my shoulders stretching across the console to Eddy’s side, while my legs are snug beneath the steering wheel. Moreover, the little car lacks in power and maneuverability. But its size is one of the main reasons that I was originally drawn to it. That, and the fact that because of its age it’s unsophisticated enough for an old dog like me to still know how to work on it in an emergency.
In an effort to ward off any future barrage of questions, I turn the radio on to a local country station. Eddy realizes immediately why I did it and reaches for the knob to turn it back off.
“Uh, uh,” I caution her. “Remember the rules of the car. The driver gets choice of radio and station.”
She pauses only momentarily, her hand suspended just inches from the knob before firing back, “You’re not fooling me, Mac.” After turning the knob to lower the volume until it’s no longer audible, she continues, a smile curling her lips up at the corner of her mouth, “You think if the radio is blaring, I won’t be able to question you. Well, you’re wrong, Buddy.
“Don’t worry, babe,” I smile back, enjoying the game we’re playing. “You know I won’t take you anywhere that you wouldn’t like.” And then, adding as an afterthought, “Especially after the way you treated me today.”
Smiling smugly as she looks out the windshield into the darkness of the night, she softly agrees, “Yes, I did treat you pretty good today. Didn’t I?” Not waiting for nor expecting an answer, her voice takes on a sharp edge and she continues, “I wouldn’t be getting too used to it, though.”
Not wanting to show her that her words caused me just a small amount of concern, I teasingly reply, “Babe, when I turn on the charm, you know you can’t resist.”
When she turns to face me, the smug look on her face only increases my concern. I’ve heard men talking about how their wives suddenly grow disinterested in sex and what it eventually does to their relationships. What were once loving, caring marriages quickly disintegrate into nothing more than two people living under the same roof with little in common. The man takes up hunting or fishing while the wife either takes up shopping with her girlfriends or sitting in front of the television all day watching soaps and eating chips. Neither of which is very appealing to me and I quickly resolve never to take her for granted. Maybe so long as I treat her as if she is the only woman in the world, she’ll continue reacting in kind; with love, friendship, and lots of hot passionate intimacy.
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” I smile across at her in the darkness.
We drive on in silence for a short while before Eddy turns the radio back up. Blake Shelton is singing his latest hit and I happily hum along.
Within a few minutes, we are nearing the restaurant. When I turn off Main onto 8th street, Eddy instantly figures out where we’re headed.
“Oh, I love this place,” she exclaims, as I pull up to the deserted curb directly in front of the entrance. Noticing that the parking lot across the street is also vacant except for what must be the employ’s cars, I breathe an audible sigh of relief; I was hoping to top off this night with a nice romantic meal and maybe some more excitement later. Eddy isn’t into crowds; if the place were packed it would have been a real mood dampener.
“I know,” I remark, leaning over to give her a soft peck on the cheek.
In her usual unassuming manner, Eddy places her hand on the door knob to get out. “Let me get that for you,” I quickly offer, climbing out my side and hurrying around the rear of the car to open the door for her.
Taking my extended hand, she allows me to pull her to her feet before pressing up close to my chest and whispering coyly in my ear, “You’ve already earned your reward for later tonight Big Guy; don’t feel that you have to go overboard.”
As she steps toward the restaurant door, I casually remark with a slight lift in my step, “Baby, I assure you that my actions aren’t in the least bit motivated by what you may or may not bestow upon me later. I am living in the moment, and I happen to be escorting one of the most beautiful women on the Oregon coast into a fine dining establishment with no pretext of anything other than showing her a good time and treating her to some fine food.”
Stopping and waiting for me to get the door for her, she whispers sarcastically as I draw near, “You really are full of it tonight.” And then, her voice softer, she adds over her shoulder as she steps through the open door, “But don’t stop on my account.”
*4*
To my great delight, except for us and the staff, the place is deserted and we have the choice of any table. After selecting one situated in the shadows of a poorly lit corner of the expansive hall-like room, the only light coming from a small candle in a jar, we order drinks and study the menu, even though we both know what we are going to order.
When the waitress returns with our drinks, me a tumbler of West Indies rum, while Eddy has a glass of Chablis, I take the initiative of ordering for both of us. To my relief, instead of hovering over us in search of boosting a larger tip, the staff spends most of its time huddled at a far table smoking cigarettes and sharing gossip of the patrons they serviced earlier.
Considering that we’re the only patrons, the food seems to take an eternity to arrive. After studying the clock numerous times, however, I realize that it isn’t taking any longer than normal; it’s just me being antsy to get going so I can collect my promised rewards.
Without noticing that Eddy is taking her time and savoring every bite of the food, I hurriedly finish mine and then look up to see her staring at me over her plate which appears barely touched and still steaming hot.
Instead of being angry with me, though, she smiles coyly and then turns her attention back to her food, which she seems to be eating even slower than she had just moment’s prior.
“Are you going to be able to finish all of that, or would you like to share some with me?” I impatiently inquire, hoping she’ll push a large portion of it to my plate so we can get finished and back to the apartment.
“Oh no, Babe, this is all mine,” she teases, smiling through her teeth as she slowly, almost sensuously, chews on a small particle of tenderloin fillet.
After what seems an eternity, I am paying the bill and we are heading back out the door and to the car.
“That was delicious, Honey,” she says, giving me a soft peck on the lips as I open the car door for her.
My anxiety growing by the second, I almost brusquely reply, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Swinging the door shut, I hurriedly climb into the driver’s side and turn the ignition. Eddy, meanwhile, is thoroughly enjoying watching me and is taking great pleasure in my anxiety. Before I can shift into first, she lays her left hand over my right as it grips the shifter and reaches across the console, placing her right behind my head and pulling my face toward her.
Before I can resist, she slips her tongue into my mouth and kisses me long and hard, immediately igniting the passion that has been simmering just below the boiling point within my loins for the last hour or so.
“Let’s get back to the apartment, Babe,” I blurt hoarsely between breaths.
Her left hand slips from my right and reaches between my legs, sliding languorously up the inside of my thigh, stopping only when it bumps up gently against my swollen manhood.
“Oh Babe,” she huskily breathes, her hand massaging me through the light cotton fabric of my Dockers.
When she begins squirming on the seat in an effort to climb closer to me, I finally pull back and hold her at arm’s length. “Babe, midgets weren’t designed for front seat antics,” I gasp, a bit breathlessly. “Let’s get going and we can pick up where we leave off just as soon as we get back to the apartment.”
Dropping back into her seat, her face clearly showing disappointment, I suddenly find myself uncertain as to whether she is teasing or serious when she says, “You’re a real mood kill. Maybe we can just go for a drive along the coast instead. I’m not really tired yet.”
Slowly, my body goes limp and I slouch back into the seat, unable to take my eyes off her. When she glances furtively out of the corner of her eye to see what affect her words and actions have had on me, I instantly realize that she is toying with me. Angrily, I grip the shifter in my fleshy right fist and forcefully grind it into first. “Hang on,” I command, stepping on the accelerator while letting the clutch out.
The little midget jerks, catches, and then takes off as the engine rev’s come up to speed. I make a U-turn on the street and speed up toward Hwy 101, barely glancing down the dark, deserted strip of asphalt as I pull up onto it while turning right and speed back in the direction of the apartment.
Within minutes, we are turning off onto the street that leads up to the drive in front of our apartment unit; we both see it at the same time.
Without even considering my next actions, I reach under the seat and retrieve my magnum; a .357 Ruger snub with Pac Myer grips. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Eddy reaching into the glove box to retrieve her .32 Special; a .32 caliber, seven shot revolver. To my amazement, we are both operating on instinctive reflex, working together as one despite the lengthy period of time since being in the field.
As I come tearing up on the dark sedan, I suddenly yank the wheel hard to the right while simultaneously pulling up on the parking brake and causing the rear of the little car to come sliding around toward the front, stopping close enough to the driver’s door of the sedan to prevent it opening while planting the little midget’s headlights directly in the eyes of the bewildered occupants.
Before they can grasp what is going on and take defensive action, Eddy and I are out of the midget, our weapons leveled at the two men inside. While I step to the left and front of their vehicle, Eddy steps around the back and comes up on the passenger’s rear just as the passenger throws open his door to get out.
“Freeze!” she commands with authority, stepping close enough to plant the cold steel barrel of her revolver in the side of the man’s neck, right up against his juggler vein. “Very slowly, using just your thumb and index finger, hand me that niner you’re so proud of.”
Still crouching half in and half out of the vehicle, the barrel of Eddy’s gun taking the starch out of his drawers, he silently lets his nine millimeter automatic slip down so that it is dangling loosely from his trigger finger while holding it out away from himself.
Reaching for it, she softly remarks, the tone of her voice firm and unwavering, “Don’t try anything stupid.”
Meanwhile, I have the driver under the barrel of my magnum, his hands gripping the wheel in front of him with enough force to turn the knuckles white. Whether this is from fear or anger, I’m not sure. But I strongly suspect it’s the latter; he doesn’t appear to be a man that is easily derailed, and I’m generally a fair judge of character.
Stepping in between the Midget and up close to the driver’s door, I cautiously reach inside his jacket and slip his weapon from the shoulder holster concealed beneath his left arm. “Like the lady said, don’t try anything stupid, we just want to know what you’re up to.”
Unlike the passenger, the driver is more vocal, and responds in a deep raspy voice, “I’m going to want that back.”
“You’ll get it back when I’m ready to give it back,” I coolly respond, not showing the least bit of anger at them for delaying my ‘reward’.
*5*
Next to the curb on the passenger’s side of the sedan is a low stone wall and Eddy has perched herself on it with a clear view through the passenger’s open door, keeping the little revolver trained on both men. The passenger, meanwhile, has pulled his feet back in and is sitting quietly brooding the situation. He is not happy at the predicament that he finds himself and that makes him the more dangerous of the two, especially since he also seems to be the least experienced which equates to the most unpredictable.
The driver, however, is much less distressed over the situation they’re finding themselves in and is much more calm and cooperative. He’s a seasoned veteran of his occupation and thus realizes that he might learn as much as he is willing to give, if not more.
Before I can begin questioning the driver, he calmly states, “We are not who you might think.”
“Right now, I’m not thinking you’re anybody,” I reply equally calm. “But I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“Allow me,” he says, taking his right hand from the wheel and slowly reaching inside his jacket.
What he withdraws isn’t quite what I’m expecting, but I recognize it immediately, as it closely resembles the same ID I carry with me at all times. Flipping open the identification holder, he states what it says in holographic blue ink across the top. “We’re federal agents, much the same as you were once. And so I know it isn’t necessary for me to explain the futility of asking for our employer’s name or our purpose for keeping you under surveillance.”
Taking the proffered ID, I give it a cursory glance and then hand it back to him. When he reaches to take it back from me, I’m half tempted to grab his arm and physically drag him from the vehicle. Once on the ground, I might be able to beat something out of him.
But as quickly as the urge strikes me, it just as quickly passes. If for no other reason than mutual respect of one federal investigator for another, I restrain myself. And besides, he doesn’t appear the type to cave under threat of bodily harm.
Instead, I simply ask in the guise of a statement, “Well, at least I believe that you’re not here to kill us.”
“We’re not mercenaries, Mr. McClain,” he states a bit indignantly, throwing me a knowing look.
This man has done his homework with regards to my past which means he has access to restricted government files, and for that reason alone, understands my capabilities as well as my tendencies. He’s being very careful in his own gruff way not to push my buttons.
His partner, on the other hand, is less disciplined and beginning to grow evermore impatient with the situation, as is evidenced by his fidgeting in the seat.
Experienced as she is, Eddy has also picked up on the younger man’s rapidly disintegrating patience. Rising from the stone wall, she takes a step forward just as the young man makes a frantic grab for something beneath his seat.
Even before the senior partner can grasp the foolishness of what the young one is attempting and try to stop him, there’s the loud crack of wood striking bone, and the young man slumps forward unconscious, his head striking the vinyl dash with a dull thud before hanging limply off to the side.
Before anyone can say anything, a darker spot looms in the center of the back of his head as blood flows from the freshly inflicted wound, running freely down the side of his face and onto the floor mat at his feet.
Without a word, Eddy grabs his shoulder and straightens him back upright in the seat, a low moan escaping his lips. I experience a moment of relief at the fact that she didn’t kill him, because I know she is fully capable of such an act.
Leaning into the vehicle, she reaches down between his feet and feels around the floor, her hand almost immediately coming across a police issue riot baton; the kind that extrudes with a flick of the wrist.
“Idiot,” she mutters under her breath as she flips it nonchalantly onto the back seat of the sedan and closes the passenger’s door before the semi-conscious individual can fall out.
“Go take care of the kid,” I solemnly advise the driver. “And don’t let us catch you sniffing around our digs again. Next time, you’re both going to feel some pain.”
“What about our guns?” he blurts, his hands still firmly gripping the wheel.
“What about them?” I ask, not liking the idea of the passenger being armed anytime soon.
“You don’t have the right to keep them.”
“You can pick them up at the local cop shop sometime later tomorrow afternoon,” I irritably state, not really wanting to be bothered, but also not coming up with anything better. Besides, let them explain to the police how they happened to lose their weapons and what they’re doing in town.
“You’re a real asshole, McClain.”
“Please, just call me Mac, all my friends do.”
*6*
While I park the midget in the drive in front of our unit, Eddy marches the short distance on the sidewalk. By the time I extricate myself from the cramped confines of the little car, she is standing next to it waiting for me. Without waiting to reach the privacy of our apartment, she immediately lays into me. “We still don’t know what they’re doing shadowing us,” she angrily hisses, purposely keeping her voice low so as not to wake any of our neighbors as we make our way toward the front door.
“You know as well as I do they weren’t going to spill their guts to us, no matter how we threatened them,” I reply, keeping my voice calm, yet undermined with determination.
“I’ll bet you that idiot I hit over the head would have been singing like a bird within minutes if I’d tried,” she protests, her voice still carrying an edge, which might just be adrenaline after the fact.
Since there is nothing to be gained by arguing with her, I take a different tact. “You’re probably right,” I agree, fishing my unit key out of my front pocket. “I’ll bet the older guy don’t partner up with him again. And if the idiot is assigned as a trainee under the older guy, I’ll bet he just got transferred or fired. Moreover, I wouldn’t be surprised if the young kid didn’t even know what they’re watching us for.”
Pushing the door open, I take a moment to sniff the escaping air that hits me from the warmer interior. Aside from our own personal body odors and stale beer mixed with a slight fragrance of brewed coffee, nothing smells out of the ordinary, and I lead the way inside, waiting until Eddy moves past me before closing the door behind us and turning on a light.
“Want a beer?” she asks, heading straight for the fridge.
Dropping into the recliner, I decline the offer, suggesting coffee instead, even though my own nerves are spastically firing off from the excitement and a beer might prove to be the better medicine for calming me.
Placing the beer back on the shelf in the fridge, she turns to the pot instead, asking, “Is it set up?”
“You know it is,” I proudly reply.
After flipping the switch on to override the timer, she sets two cups on the counter and slowly returns to the front room, her expression betraying the fact that her thoughts are a million miles away.
To my surprise, she moves on past the couch and drops onto my lap, leaning back against my chest so that the side of her head is pressed gently against the side of my face. Instinctively, I draw in a full breath of her, the tight blonde curls sensually tickling my nostrils while snagging in the darkening shadow of my facial hair, something that normally irritates her.
But tonight is different, and she only wriggles in tighter against me. Turning my head, I softly kiss the silkiness of her hair. She responds by turning her face to mine and kissing me languorously on the lips. They are soft and moist, scintillatingly so, and I feel myself growing hard within my Dockers.
Feeling my manhood swelling beneath her, she wiggles into a more comfortable position, effectively lessening the force of the bulge against her buttocks while simultaneously sending me a subliminal signal that sex isn’t in our immediate future.
Since being with Eddy, I’ve learned a lot about women and their extreme emotional makeup, and so it is that I quickly recognize the change that is taking place within her. For the moment, she isn’t thinking about controlling me, or the fact that I’m sexually aroused. Instead, she is feeling only a need for sanctuary, and the stability that I can give her by holding her tightly in my arms, protecting her from the big bad world. Right now, she needs a different kind of intimacy; the kind that doesn’t involve sex or heavy breathing or a racing heart.
My past never included anything other than the two-headed beast and the physical satisfaction of sexual release that came with it. Until I met Eddy, I never even knew there was such a thing as intimacy without the physical grappling and sweating that accompanies the act of sex.
But being with Eddy has changed all of that, and now I can appreciate so much more in a relationship than just the hot sweaty moments leading up to a climax. In fact, I can even appreciate just sitting here in silence with her wrapped tightly in my arms, the firm outline of her buttocks pressing hard against my thighs while she snuggles securely on my lap.
At least, I can for a little while. But alas, like most men, I have a short attention span, and the silence between us soon grows deafening. Moreover, the bulge in my pants isn’t abating from the lack of attention being given it.
Without even realizing that I’m doing it, my lips press softly against her earlobe, my tongue slipping slowly, almost stealthily through her blonde curls until it feels the smoothness of her skin delicately pressed against its tip.
Her right hand slowly drops down the back of my neck, her gentle touch igniting sparks down the length of my spine while causing my heart to skip a beat.
Very conscious of my actions, I wriggle beneath her, positioning my stout member in such a way that she can no longer ignore its pulsing pressure throbbing against her with each beat of my heart, threatening to force its way through the light fabric separating us.
My tongue finds its way into her ear canal and she wriggles ever so slightly on top of me, a soft moan trembling over her lips.
Her brief moment of neediness recedes and the powerful, demanding lioness slowly returns. I can feel the change coming over her like a force unto itself. It is a burgeoning energy that quickly dispels the small, soft creature that had occupied the woman on my lap just moments prior.
With no conscious thought on her part, her hands work their way between us and find the buttons securing my shirt, the last bastion keeping us apart as I pull her blouse over her head, revealing the fullness of her breasts.
Our breathing is ragged, our motions forceful and hurried with no thought for the welfare of the thin material. Within seconds, her bare breasts are cupped in my powerful grasp, her nipples transformed into rock hard extensions protruding from her firm flesh. She is a thing of beauty that any man would kill to have, and I feel so damn lucky to be that man. In this moment of time, there isn’t any place I would rather be.
Taking her right nipple in my mouth, I tenderly bite down, a long gasp emanates from deep within her being and her body trembles with excitement and anticipation.
Leaning forward, her nipple still grasped firmly between my front teeth, I lift her in my arms and start toward the bedroom. I have barely made it halfway across the front room, when her nipple breaks free from between my teeth. Before I can hunt it down with my mouth, she lifts my head to hers and bites down playfully on my lower lip before placing her mouth over mine, her tongue violently exploring within mine.
As we move past the coffee pot, I bump the switch to the off position, confident that if I don’t it will be well beyond a palatable beverage by the time we get to drinking it. The black liquid that has already filled the pot can be nuked later at our convenience.
No sooner do I lower her supine body to the bed, than I am scrambling frantically to get my belt undone followed by a jig to free my feet from my pants which are tangled around my ankles on the floor, when I suddenly notice that Eddy isn’t following suit. Instead, she is lying unmoving where I placed her, her legs slightly curled up toward her belly resembling the fetal position. In that instant, I realize that her mood has swung once again.
*7*
Standing naked by the side of the bed, I look down at her in the gloom, the only light filtering in from the front room. She is gazing back up at me, fully aware that my manhood is hovering just inches above her, ready to lead the charge.
Her voice barely audible, she apologetically whispers, “I’m sorry, Mac, but we need to talk.”
“I’ll get us some coffee,” I grumble sullenly while turning away from her and retracing my steps to the kitchen. For the moment, I care little for what the subject will be. Instead, I am only disappointed for my own selfish reasons.
When I return with two steaming cups of black coffee, I find Eddy snuggled under the covers with her head propped up on the pillow, her clothes already put away. Tomorrow, Wednesday, we’ll be packing and prepping for the weekend at the dunes, even though we won’t be leaving until Thursday morning.
“I’m sorry,” she says apologetically, accepting the proffered coffee from my extended hand.
“Don’t worry about it,” I nonchalantly shrug, hiding my true feelings from her on the off chance I might still sway her before the night is over. I’m not sure how much teasing my poor body can stand after the earlier fiasco and now this one.
Planting myself on the edge of the bed, I purposely remain sitting on top of the covers so I can keep my back toward her. In a voice that sounds gruffer than I intend, I ask, “What’s so important it couldn’t wait till morning?”
Seeing that I’m not going to use my pillow, she grabs it with her left hand while carefully balancing the cup of coffee in her right and places it atop her own, effectively boosting her into a sitting position; her actions remove all doubts that this is going to be a long night, and not for the right reasons.
Although her voice is soft and demure, she is not weak. In fact, she is quite the opposite. “So,” I start, taking another sip from my cup. “What’s on your mind?”
“What are two federal agents doing sniffing around here? I knew they couldn’t tell us what their assignment is even if they wanted to. If word got out, they could face criminal charges or be severely reprimanded. For all intents and purposes, their careers would be over.”
“I have a strong suspicion the unconscious one’s career is over anyway. But it won’t hurt to keep our vigilance up for a little while. There’s never any telling what a hotheaded idiot like that is capable of now that a woman has injured his pride,” I suggest, taking another sip from my cup.
Even though the pot was only off for a few minutes, it has picked up a bitter taste and I’m debating tossing it when Eddy says, “I think we should postpone our little venture to the dunes this weekend. At least put it off until we can sort this out and figure out what’s going down.”
Although my first reaction is to agree, for more reasons than just the obvious, I know how much this little adventure means to her, if for no other reason than she fears becoming a stagnant old fuddy. She doesn’t want to be one of those fiftyish, overweight housewives pushing a cart around Wally World for entertainment. And God forbid, I don’t want to see that either.