“Good enough?”
“Damn you,” she said.
He laughed easily. “Now which way’s the bedroom?”
“Through that door.”
“Then let’s go,” he said. “Come on.”
The bedroom was neat and feminine. The bed had a box-spring and an innerspring mattress and clean sheets. They lay down on it and he took her in his arms. Her teeth were clenched. She acted as though she was submitting to him because there was nothing else she could do.
He was going to change that. He was going to make her beg for it. Before he was done with her she would come on her knees to him if he wanted her to.
This was going to be good.
He held her in his arms and kissed her. Her body was cool, her skin very soft and smooth. He put one hand on her shoulder and ran it slowly and gently down her side until he was holding her bottom. She had a nice bottom, he decided, and he patted it gently.
He kissed her, still gentle, and her mouth opened for him. His tongue caressed her lips, rubbed over her teeth, dipped into her mouth. He worked very slowly, making all his movements gentle and calculating her responses meticulously. He leaned over her as he kissed her, lowering his body slowly so that his chest rubbed against her breasts for the shadow of a second. Then he raised his chest and broke contact.
After he’d kissed her mouth for several seconds he broke the kiss. He moved on the bed, then began to kiss her throat. The skin was very soft there. He kissed all over her throat, and he could feel the desire beginning to mount in her.
Mrs. Nugent, he thought, in a few minutes you’re gonna be climbing the goddamned walls.
His hand found her breast and held it. He didn’t manipulate the firm flesh, just held it in the palm of his hand. It fit perfectly.
He kissed her shoulder and his hand moved on her breast. He moved lower on the bed, leaving a trail of kisses from her shoulder to the very top of her breasts. He heard a sharp intake of breath. He was getting to her now. He was hitting home. He was finding the target.
He handled one breast as he began to kiss the other. Both his hand and his mouth were clever and skillful. The breasts were perfect and they excited him tremendously. It took effort to keep from tossing himself upon her there and then. But he wanted to take his time. He wanted to make it a good one, to drive her out of her mind with desire.
His lips kissed the underside of one breast while his thumb and forefinger played games with the nipple of the other breast. Then his mouth moved and he was kissing one pink nipple while he fingered the other one.
“Now,” she moaned. “Now!”
He wanted to laugh. Already she was asking for it. Well, she was going to have to wait until he was ready. And he wouldn’t be ready for a while yet.
“Now!”
But he wasn’t ready to take her yet. Instead he let go of her breasts and moved downward, kissing her flat little stomach. He felt her whole body go tense with desire. He planted kisses all over her stomach, kisses that set her flesh on fire.
Then he skipped to her thighs.
Now she was burning for him. She couldn’t lie still and she was squirming.
“Now! Damn you! Now!”
Not yet, he thought, not quite yet.
His lips moved, inching ever closer to their goal. The closer he got, the slower he forced himself to go until he was afraid she might go out of her mind any second, might flip completely and turn into a raving maniac.
He kissed with incredible skill while she wailed Now Now Now into his ears. He timed things flawlessly, driving her as close as he dared to the peak of passion without giving her the little push that would send her over the edge into a fit of satisfied ecstasy.
Then, when she was tottering on the brink, he let go of her and sat upright on the bed. He looked down at her, and he grinned.
Her face was a mask of pure hatred crossed with undeniable desire.
“Do it! Damn you, do it to me! Are you trying to kill me? Is that what you want?”
He laughed.
“Do it! Do it do it do it—”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Make love to me!”
“I don’t understand you,” he said carefully. “If you want it, you’ve got to ask for it right.”
She didn’t understand. So he told her the words to use, and she used them. He could have told her to do absolutely anything in the world and at that point she would have done it.
“Okay,” he said. “Here it comes.”
Then he fell on her, driving himself to her, and she gave a little moan of pleasure.
He used her cruelly and viciously and incredibly well. He sailed her to the top of the world and down again, and he took out everything upon her, using her body to give himself immeasurable pleasure.
It lasted a long time.
And then, finally, they came to the peak for the last time. His timing was perfect, again, and they got there together. He let his rage and passion explode with her.
Then they both were very still.
“You can go now.”
He looked up at her, amused by her tone. It said that she was through with him, that he had served his purpose and that she was discarding him like a used napkin. He had news for her. But he dressed first before he told her about it.
She too was dressed. She had showered while he lay on the bed getting his strength back, and she looked neat and prim and proper. Only the dark circles under her eyes showed that she had spent a very energetic hour or so in bed.
When he had all his clothes on he checked his pockets, thinking that she might have slipped him some money while he was in bed. He found the dollar he had picked up from the tip, plus the pack of cigarettes. That was all he found.
“Hurrying to get-rid of me,” he said. “That’s pretty cute. Your husband coming home?”
She stared at him. “I don’t have a husband,” she managed.
He laughed at her. “I can read,” he said. “What happened to old Dave? Old Dave Nugent?”
She swallowed.
“He probably wouldn’t like this,” Johnny said. “You cheating on him like this. He’d be all upset.”
“You rotten bastard.”
“My husband died a little over a year ago,” she said. “Do you think I’d step onto the same street with you if he were alive? We loved each other. He was a man, not a phallus with a body attached to it. You despicable—”
“So I made a mistake.”
“Get out. Damn you, get out of here!”
“You owe me money.”
She stared at him.
“Money,” he said. “I don’t give a damn why you wanted to get laid, but you got it and I haven’t heard any complaints from you. So you might as well pay for it.”
Her laughter was hysterical. “I don’t believe it,” she said. “You’re not just a bastard. You’re a whore too.”
“Save the names. Just cough up the dough.”
“How much do you get, whore? Five dollars? Ten dollars? What’s your price, whore?”
He considered. He didn’t want five or ten or twenty, not from her. He wanted more than that. He wanted the dough that would buy him a front, the dough that would put him in business. Dough for a suit, a place to live, a haircut and clothes and business expenses.
He wasn’t going to get that kind of dough from her. But he could — if he was willing to take chances. How great a chance would he be taking?
“What’s your price?”
He ignored her question, calculating the risk quickly. She didn’t know his name or where he lived. She didn’t live in his neighborhood. She could describe him to the cops and tell them where he picked her up, but that was about all she could do.
And the odds were strong that she wouldn’t say a word to anybody. She’d be pretty goddamned ashamed of what she’d done, and she’d be glad to be rid of him. She might miss him a little on cold nights, but she’d be happy enough never to see him again. That much was sure.