Drifter's Blues (Erotic Noir) (7 page)

Kyle had fallen silent after that, his brow furrowed, and Donna had gone over the plan again, emphasizing the benefits. Sure, it was risky, but what in life wasn’t if it was worth pursuing?

‘Unless you don’t want to,’ she said.

Kyle looked down at her quizzically.

‘Don’t want to be with me,’ she said. ‘I haven’t asked. I guess I just assumed… hoped…’ She trailed off.

His hand slid down her shoulder and around under her arm, the fingers touching the side of her bare breast. She felt his lips against her hair. He breathed, ‘Jeez. Of course I do.’

Donna took his hand and placed it over her breast, enjoying the roughness of his palm on her nipple. He massaged it gently. Down his body, she saw his penis stir, flopping sideways as it thickened and then rising slowly to full erectness.

‘My God,’ she murmured. ‘Again?’

He took longer to reach his orgasm this time, staying hard throughout, pistoning into her, and Donna came twice, sobbing and biting at his shoulder the second time, clawing her nails into his back. He raised his head to look at her as he climaxed, his sweat-tangled hair hanging down almost into her face, and from the look in his eyes she knew she had him.

Kyle was hooked.

*

Donna couldn’t very well send the gardener and the house staff away on the Thursday as well, so she had to wait till next Monday to get together with Kyle again. It wasn’t such a bad thing, she considered. It gave both of them a chance to recharge their batteries.

She still wasn’t comfortable about doing it up at the house. Not because she had any qualms about betraying Blair – far from it – but precisely because the house felt like Blair’s, while the chalet was more like her and Kyle’s space. So they used the bed in the chalet, Kyle erect and rampant as a bull, riding her hard so that she had to grab fistfuls of the sheets to hold herself steady.

After the first time Donna suggested they take a shower together. Not because it was time to get dressed – she anticipated a lot more sweatiness before they were through for the day – but because she enjoyed the slow, sensual intimacy of the cleansing ritual with a lover. She soaped the sculpted hardness of his chest, marveled at the ridged bars of his belly. Standing close to him, she ran her hands down the muscles of his thighs, bringing them up and inwards to massage suds into his pubic hair, then his cock and balls. His penis immediately began nodding erect and she smiled, removing her hands and attending to his back, the firm flatness of his butt, tantalizing him with just the tips of her nipples brushing his chest.

She’d seen him briefly on his own on Thursday when he’d arrived to clean the pool. Although he couldn’t be openly affectionate with her, he certainly looked at her in different way, an amused knowingness in his eyes which she returned.

‘I’ll do it,’ he’d said, and she felt a thrill of achievement.

Now, the gentle cascade from the shower head soaking their bodies into glistening slickness, they washed and caressed one another, and made plans.

Kyle’s first question was, naturally enough, about security.

‘Yeah, it’s tight,’ Donna said. ‘Motion detectors all round the house, trips and triggers for the alarm system everywhere. Once it’s set off, an armed response unit from the security company arrives in two minutes. I’ve seen it in action, once when a hobo wandered in. Blair keeps the painting in his study, which has its own alarm system.’

‘I don’t know anything about alarms, or avoiding them,’ Kyle admitted, his hands smoothing soap into her breasts. She felt his cock nudging hard against her pubis.

‘That’s no problem,’ she said. ‘I’ll disable them.’

‘But won’t it be obvious to your husband that it’s an inside job?’

‘Not if I give you the codes to re-enable them,’ she said, finding it momentarily difficult to focus on talking as Kyle’s hand swept down her belly and began to soap her mound. ‘You break in, grab the painting, then reset the alarms and get out of there, fast. Two minutes. You’ll need to be quick, but you can do it.’

She studied his eyes for doubt, for signs that he was having second thoughts. There was apprehension there, for sure, but more than that there was lust.

Kyle lowered his mouth to her neck and she turned her head to allow him access, catching her breath as his lips and teeth nibbled at her. She rose on her tiptoes and by feel alone she positioned herself so that the head of his cock was snug between her parted legs. Slowly she lowered herself, impaling herself on his penis, sinking down until her vagina had engulfed almost the full length of his shaft.

‘I thought,’ she began, breaking off to gasp. She tried again. ‘I thought we’d do it next week Saturday. Twelve days from now. Blair’s going to be… out of town…
ah, God
… in Atlanta. And I’m visiting with a friend – oh, yeah, that’s good,
oh
, baby. It’s the perfect – ah, Jesus, baby, that’s right, fuck me – the perfect opportunity. Oh God… oh,
fuck
…’

They clung to one another, almost losing their balance on the slippery floor. At the last minute their frantic bucking became too much and Donna slipped off Kyle, his cock springing free between them just as he came. She felt the hot ropy spurts of his semen against her belly, some of them flicking against the undersides of her breasts, and she smiled, pressing her open mouth up against his as his guttural cries broke forth.

‘Saturday’s fine,’ he gasped, as he pushed her back against the wall of the shower and slid his still-erect penis back into her.

*

The early Monday evening streets still simmered with the day’s heat. Kyle was downtown, striding the sidewalk in his jeans and T-shirt, too wired to do anything but keep on the move.

From the streetcorners hookers wolf-whistled and called to him. He ignored them, as he did the muttered offers of the drug dealers who approached him with unseasonably heavy overcoats held open to display their wares. Everywhere around him the city teemed with restless life and Kyle threw himself into its center, because to be alone right now would be to sink into a swamp of brooding, and he didn’t need that.

Everywhere he went, whatever he did, Donna was right there with him. The smile on her lips that lit up her eyes, the sinuous curl of her arms twining round his neck and her legs round his thighs, the unbearable firm thrusting globes of her breasts against his chest: all were as vivid to him as if he was still in the chalet with her. His cock, still aching from the day’s activities, could feel the warm tight slippery sheath of her vagina round it. And the smells of her… they lingered ineradicably in his nostrils, her faint perfume and the pheromonal smell of her pores, the light aroma of her shampoo and the musky sex-odor of her pussy.

Kyle had smoked a little reefer in his time but had never done harder drugs. But he thought he could guess now what crack addiction was like. His craving for Donna was all-consuming, more powerful than the drive to eat or drink or even piss. And once he’d indulged himself in the fiery glory of her body, once they’d ridden each other to an awesome peak of excitement and pleasure, he experienced only a fleeting comedown before his craving reared its head again, even more intense than it had been before.

Three days
, he thought.
Three whole days before I even see her again. And even then, we probably won’t get a chance to do it.
The thought made him despair, gave him the urge to fling himself onto the road in front of a truck. Maybe he could hang around the Thurgood property tomorrow or the next day to see if he could catch a glimpse of her? Surely she’d go out some time?

Yeah, dude
, he thought.
Why don’t you just get a long-lens camera and take snapshots of her. Why don’t you break into her room and steal her panties to sniff. A criminal record as a stalker. That’ll look real swell on your resume.
 

Still, he knew the next few days were going to be torture. The four days –
four days, Jesus
– after that until next Monday were going to be even harder.

He forced his thoughts away from Donna and her body as he stalked the streets, not just because his exhausted cock was already heaving itself up painfully into a standing position in his jeans, but because there was something else he needed to think about, even if he didn’t want to.

He’d agreed to commit a crime. To break into another man’s house and steal something of enormous value.

Kyle wasn’t given to self-delusion, but right now he wished he had the ability to convince himself that what he’d agreed to do was somehow not wrong. That a rich, arrogant bastard like Blair Thurgood deserved to lose some of his fortune. That he, Kyle, was somehow performing a noble, revolutionary service to society.

But he couldn’t. He was going to cross a line, in the full knowledge that what he was performing was a felony and that if caught he would go to jail for a very long time. And he was doing it for one of the most ancient reasons of all: because a woman had asked him to, and because he loved her enough to risk everything for her.

There. He’d said it to himself, even if he hadn’t to Donna yet. He was in love with her. Yes, he was pussywhipped; there was no point in pretending that wasn’t part of it. But it wasn’t just the promise of more sex, or the threat of its removal, that motivated him. Just talking to Donna, even when they were fully clothed, delighted him. He loved the quirky mobility of her mouth, her funny yet seductive eyes. The modulation of her voice. The gentle way she touched his cheek, almost chastely at times.

He’d break in, and steal the painting, and get the fuck out again before the security guys arrived with their Armalites and their Kevlar vests. And if the nagging voice of his conscience turned to a screaming storm in his ear… well, he’d tune it out. He’d suck it up. And after that, maybe a year later, a year of waiting in the shadows as a kind of exile, he’d meet up with Donna somewhere, maybe on an island, almost certainly in another country, and they’d live off the money from the painting and spend all day, all night, naked in one another’s arms, shutting out the world.

Was it all bullshit? Part of Kyle knew it might be, but he was surprised to find he didn’t care. Because he wanted it to be true, and if there was the remotest possibility that it might be, he was willing to hold on to that.

After Kyle had been walking for an hour and the thoughts and the turmoil were still churning in his mind, more tumultuous than ever, he decided there was only one way to shut it all down even temporarily.

He went into the nearest bar and proceeded to get mortally, but enjoyably, shitfaced.

Five

Donna was in the living room leafing through a catalog, listlessly choosing drapes for one of the rooms in what she increasingly viewed as Blair’s home, not hers, when her husband came downstairs. It was Saturday afternoon and he was spending a rare weekend day at home.

She glanced up. Blair was in a pair of swimming trunks and nothing else, a towel draped over his arm. He’d gotten paunchier even in the last couple of weeks, it seemed to Donna, and his belly overhung the elastic waistband of his trunks like an English muffin in its cup.

He grinned at her, for the first time in months, Donna thought.

‘You’re in a good mood,’ she said flatly.

‘Had a good week, babe.’ He whistled some tune or other. Sinatra’s “Fly Me To The Moon”, it sounded like.

I’ll bet you had a good week
, Donna thought. He’d been with Madison the night before. She’d smelled the girl’s perfume on his clothes this morning when she’d gotten the laundry together.
Well, enjoy it, pal. Because in one week from now, your smug little world is going to be knocked a degree off its axis.

‘Coming for a swim?’ he said cheerfully. Donna shook her head and turned back to her catalog.

‘Suit yourself,’ he said. ‘The water’s sure nice and clean these days, though.’

Donna stared after Blair’s back as he went out the French windows and across the lawn to the pool.

Just what exactly had he meant by that? It was a throwaway remark, except Blair never made those. Nothing he said was without calculation.

She rose from the couch and peered through the window. Blair had dropped his towel by the edge and was sauntering round to the diving board at the deep end. He leaped into the water with abandon, causing a huge splash.

Did he suspect something was going on between her and Kyle? If so, how? Kyle was a good-looking young guy, something Blair couldn’t have failed to notice, so maybe he was having a jibe at Donna just because of that, knowing she must have noticed the pool guy’s looks herself. She certainly didn’t think she’d been ogling Kyle in front of Blair. But she’d hired him, and Blair wouldn’t have forgotten that.

Blair was hardly in a position to get on his moral high horse when it came to unfaithfulness. He’d been screwing around on her for at least the last couple of years, and for all she knew longer than that. But he was a man, and the sort of man who held very strongly to a double standard regarding fidelity. According to his world view and that of the circles he moved in, guys fucked around. It was what they did, a part of their nature. Whereas a woman who put out for other men was a slut. It was sexist, it was disgusting... but it was the way Blair’s mind worked. And if he ever suspected Donna of playing away from home, he’d be pissed. Pissed not so much by the behavior itself, but because of what it represented.
Disobedience.
A pissed man of Blair’s wealth and power was dangerous. Maybe lethally dangerous. He could destroy her, and not just figuratively either.