Drifter's Blues (Erotic Noir) (6 page)

But when Donna had suggested he swim naked and – the clincher – had said she’d do so as well, he’d known what she intended, and the excitement that surged through him put him in danger of coming in his pants then and there. When she’d gone into the chalet and he’d stripped off his clothes and climbed into the silky embrace of the water, his cock hard as a railspike, he’d felt as aroused and even as nervous as he had when he was sixteen and had gotten laid for the first time. That time too he’d been naked and waiting for the woman to emerge; in that instance she’d been Kelly Devereaux, a girl in his class at school, and she’d gone into her absent parents’ bathroom to get ready while he lay on their double bed, scared and so horny he thought his cock was going to explode.

Now Kyle gazed down at Donna’s body. His fingertips traced the space between her breasts and ran down the concavity of her belly, over the cup of her navel and down, down, to the basin of her hips and the beginning line of her soft pubic hair just visible over the top of the sheet.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured.

She smiled, her face lazy and content, basking in the afterglow of sex.

‘
You’re
beautiful, Kyle.’

After their frenzied coupling in the pool – she’d used
that
word, the one beginning with C that he found so shocking, yet when she’d said it she’d made it sound kind of sexy – and after he’d gone down on her by the poolside, she’d led him in here to the chalet, where he was surprised to see a queen-size bed. She’d pulled him on top of her, her legs spread wide, and he’d slid into her again, rejoicing in her tight wetness. In mid-fuck he’d sat up and pulled her into a sitting position so they were facing each other upright; when that became uncomfortable he withdrew from her and, touching his finger to her lips to still her small moan of disappointment, he turned her round and mounted her from behind, penetrating deeply so that she gasped, watching his glistening cock appearing and disappearing into the sheath of her pussy until he could hold out no longer and came. Even then he stayed hard long enough to continue thrusting until Donna reached her own orgasm and collapsed on the bed, heaving convulsively, the movement causing his cock to slip out of her, slick with his come and her own juices.

He settled beside her on the bed, laying his leg across her so it slid between hers and putting an arm across her waist. She snuggled close, running the palm of a long-nailed hand up and over his chest.

‘Do you do this with all your clients, Mister Pool Guy?’ she whispered.

He pretended to consider. ‘Not the men.’

She thought about it. ‘But would you consider it?’

Kyle looked at her to see if she was joking, but she looked serious. ‘No. Never. I’m not gay. I like women.’

‘Aren’t you curious, though? What it’d be like with a man?’

‘No.’ And he was being honest. ‘Would you do it? With a woman?’

‘You’d probably like to watch.’ She smiled naughtily. ‘Guys seem to like the idea of girls getting it on.’

He had to admit it. Hoisting himself up on one elbow, he said, ‘I’m curious, though. Do women get turned on by the thought of two men doing it?’

Donna frowned as if the question hadn’t occurred to her before. ‘It’s not something women talk about much, but… yes, I think it would turn me on. Two hot guys together. Not the hardcore stuff, like anal or anything, but the idea of two buff male bodies wrestling with one another, with erections… yeah, that’d float my boat.’

He joined in her laughter, delighted at the easy familiarity with which they were discussing such an intimate subject. Above them a ceiling fan with long rotor blades marked the slow passage of time. She’d said they were alone, that all the hired help were away.

Something was hanging in the air, unacknowledged in the post-sex peace, and after several minutes’ worth of contented silence Kyle decided to bring it up.

‘This morning,’ he said. ‘I saw your husband… hit you.’

Donna looked across at him and for a moment he thought he’d made a mistake mentioning it. She sat up abruptly, the movement causing her breasts to swing distractingly, and, reaching for a small nightstand, she withdrew a pack of Marlboros and offered one to him. Kyle shook his head. He didn’t smoke, never had, and truth be told he disliked the smell. But it was Donna’s home, after all, and he was hardly in a position to object.

Donna lit up and exhaled a stream of blue towards the ceiling.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘He does that sometimes. But it’s not the worst thing.’

Alarmed, Kyle sat up and shifted closer. ‘What else does he –?’

She waved her cigarette hand, sending eddies of smoke wafting across the bed. ‘Oh, it’s nothing physical. He doesn’t rape me or torture me or anything like that. No, worse than an occasional slap or two from Blair is his utter indifference to my existence.’ Her glance slanted across at Kyle once more. In the dimness of the chalet with its drawn drapes, Donna looked cool and sultry to Kyle, poised with her cigarette like a golden-age movie star. ‘A woman needs to be wanted, Kyle. But more than that, she needs to be visible, as though her presence matters to somebody.’

‘It matters to me.’ He laid a hand on her thigh, snaked it northward. She smiled, shifting under his touch.

‘That’s why I don’t regret anything we’ve done this morning,’ she said. ‘It was wonderful.’

‘
Was?
’

‘Oh, God, I haven’t got the energy…’ But she was already stubbing out her cigarette, reaching for him.

Donna pushed his shoulder down so that he was lying on his back, then moved above him, her large breasts hanging enticingly over his chest. She didn’t stop when her hips were over his but continued moving down until her face was level with his crotch.

She looked up at him through the tousle of her hair. ‘I owe you,’ she said.

Her hand closed around his cock and stroked it to full hardness, her mouth hovering tantalisingly close so that her warm breath and occasional flicks of her darting tongue caressed the swollen head. Once or twice she opened her mouth and appeared poised to take his cock completely in her mouth, but she held back each time, teasing, a smile playing about her lips, her eyes flashing mischief at him.

When the throbbing in his balls had gotten so bad he thought that if she didn’t relieve him soon he’d have to grab his dick and get off on his own, she dipped her head and the heat of her mouth closed over his glans, her tonguetip exploring lightly under the rim. He lifted his butt, trying to push as much of his cock into her mouth as he could fit, but she moved her head away, controlling the penetration, and Kyle groaned pleasurably.

He watched, rapt, as Donna gorged herself on his cock, one moment allowing the head to bulge her cheek, the next deep-throating him so that his breath caught in his chest. She settled into a steady bobbing as she seemed to sense him getting restless and he put out a hand to clasp the back of her head.

‘Oh God, it’s happening,’ he whispered, warning her in case she didn’t like tasting come. But her head movements became more rapid, her eyes turning to meet his, a wicked look of power and control there. She was bringing him to a peak of excitement at which point he’d be utterly weak and at her mercy, and they both knew it.

She lifted her head away and with the very tip of her tongue teased the eye-slit of his cock. It was the final provocation. With a drawn-out moan Kyle ejaculated, his come spurting in hot hard gushes, and quickly she closed her mouth over him again. He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed, though she wasn’t quick enough and some of it escaped her lips and ran down her chin. She smiled, his pulsing cock still in her mouth, his overflow seed glistening on her face, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Pinned to the bed by the force of his orgasm, he watched Donna wipe her face, then slide up him so she lay across him, the top of her head resting under his chin.

After five minutes, or perhaps an hour – he’d lost track of time – he heard her voice against his chest: ‘Kyle?’

He peered down, saw her face turned up to look at his.

She said, ‘Will you do something for me?’

And so it began.

Four

Donna steered the Mercedes through the humid streets, cursing the traffic and the promise she’d made to her friends to meet them for a late lunch downtown. They could’ve come to their place, or she to theirs. Instead, one of them had suggested a restaurant and she’d fallen in with the decision.

In any case, she wasn’t going to be the most sparkling company at lunch, because her mind was elsewhere.

It was Tuesday afternoon. Just under twenty-four hours had passed since she’d finally disentangled herself from Kyle Cantrell’s arms and sent him on his way home. She’d barely been able to walk for the rest of the day, both because of exhaustion and because she’d felt sore between her legs. Sore in a good, pleasurable,
fucked
way. Because Donna had been fucked, good and hard, and many times.

The blow job she’d given Kyle had surprised her, because it was years since she’d allowed Blair to come in her mouth, and even back when she had it wasn’t something she ever especially enjoyed. With Blair there’d always been the sense that he was...
depositing
something of himself, that he was spraying in her mouth and face to mark his territory, somehow. Like when he stole a client whose business he didn’t really need from a competitor, just because he could. It was an aggressive, alpha-male tactic, and had no place in a relationship between two people, as far as she was concerned.

But swallowing Kyle’s semen had seemed utterly natural, an integral part of the whole experience of arousing him, sucking his penis and bringing him to a sexual climax. She’d no more considered removing her mouth and making him spurt on his own belly than she had lifting herself off his cock while they were fucking in the pool and letting him shoot his come in the water.

Donna had been turned on by the whole act of going down on him, of stoking his lust to the point at which he ejaculated at the urgings of her lips and tongue, and she’d wanted him to stimulate her immediately after his orgasm. First, though, she’d got down to business, and asked him if he’d... do
that
for her. He’d been startled by the change of subject, and she’d taken advantage of his surprised silence to explain what she wanted.

Donna sat at a red light, the Merc idling, and reflected on her boldness. At the gall she’d had to ask something like that of a guy she barely knew, even if she had fucked him several times already.

‘Kyle,’ she’d said, ‘I need you to burglarize my house and steal one of my husband’s paintings.’

He’d thought she was kidding at first, and had given her a puzzled laugh, but when he saw she was serious he fell silent.

She hauled herself up so that her face was level with his, her breasts flattened against his chest.

‘It’s an Allevi,’ she said. ‘Do you know who that is?’

When Kyle said he didn’t, Donna explained. Mario Ludovico Allevi was a local Georgia painter, an Italian expatriate who’d come to Augusta in the late 1960s and had produced a substantial body of oils and watercolors before his death in 1995. Blair had purchased one of his oils, a small two by three foot picture of a fishing village somewhere near Naples, at auction nine years earlier. He’d paid around eight hundred thousand dollars for it, which seemed a lot, except that this was before Allevi had come into posthumous vogue. A recent expert valuation of the painting had put its worth at around seven million.

Kyle sat up in bed when she said that, as though electrified.

‘Seven
million
?’

‘Uh-huh. That’s what it could get at a legitimate auction.’ She reached across for the cigarettes and lit one, then sat cross-legged on the bed, blowing smoke away from him. ‘On the black market, probably more.’

Kyle took a few moments to think about what she’d said. She smoked and studied him. Frowning, he said, ‘But why steal it? It’s yours already, isn’t it?’

‘No. It’s Blair’s.’ She exhaled more deeply than usual. ‘Kyle, you’re a single guy. You can’t be expected to grasp what goes on in a marriage, especially one like ours, with a housewife married to a rich and powerful man. The wealth, the pretty things… all of it belongs to the man, really, and he knows it. Blair could take it away at any time. It’s all on loan to me. We don’t talk about it, but it’s true.’

‘So why not divorce him?’

‘He’d screw me in the settlement. Blair’s a shrewd guy. Shrewd and ruthless. That’s why he’s so successful at what he does. He’d hire some shit-hot shark of a lawyer who’d run rings around my own counsel. I’d get a little money, sure. But not nearly enough to make up for all the crap I’ve had to put up with from him over the years.’

‘Then why not take the painting yourself and run with it?’

‘Because he’d know it was me, and track me down.’ Donna put out her cigarette, decided against another. She slid down so that her head was resting against Kyle’s chest and he put his arm round her shoulders. ‘This way’s perfect. A burglar breaks in and takes the painting. It disappears. I’ve looked into this. I know somebody who knows somebody who can spirit it away, turn it into untraceable money. Money that would be enough to set me up for life. To set
us
up, Kyle.’ She looked up at him, touched her fingers to his cheek. ‘So I carry on in the marriage for a while, then get a divorce. Blair gives me a pittance and thinks he’s got one over on me, but meanwhile you and I have the money from the painting, carefully invested somewhere else.’