Dead Write Ch 10

* This is a repost of an old romance story with a fresh edit. *

Chapter 10

The sun beat down noonday hot as Sherry and Sam made the sweaty hike from the courthouse to the truck. A good fight had been fought with no clear victory. Fatigued by wounded hearts, neither had the strength to begin the battle debriefing.

The truck interior had reached a flesh frying Fahrenheit. Sam opened the doors, rolled down the windows, and turned on the engine. "It feels like hell in there."

"Here's a news flash, Sam, I've been living in hell for two days." Tears mixed with the perspiration on her cheeks.

"You knew what Bob was going to tell me, didn't you?"

"Let’s not talk about it now." She grasped his hand. "Take me home?"

He followed her inside, stomped on the accelerator, and burst into heavy traffic. Horns blew. He waved an answer with his long finger.

Sherry pulled his hand down and pressed it against her damp cheek. “Please, don’t let Bob ruin everything.”

Yanking it away, he gripped the wheel and tried to analyze all that'd happened. But the image of Bob and Jan, out in the middle of the lake, on the cabin deck, fucking like dogs, kept intruding. The mental picture made vivid by see-worthy footage from his own boating memories. Jan had always been the more adventurous partner, and created diverse scenarios to spice up sex. The captured maiden ravaged by the handsome pirate was one of Jan’s favorites.

With her head on Sam’s shoulder, Sherry fell asleep during the twenty-minute ride. The faint bags under her eyes hinted exhaustion. Her soft breath caressed his bicep.

He shrugged her off and barked, "Wake up. You’re home."

Snapping upright, she smoothed her dress, took a moment to get her bearings, and said, "I’m sorry. I haven’t slept very much, lately."

Sam pointed at the wet spot where her mouth had rested. "You drooled all over my arm."

"I was dreaming about you, and you make me drool." She smiled sweetly and crinkled her nose, making a cutesy face.

His glare vaporized the smile.

A few minutes later, they sat across from one another at the kitchen table and nursed on glasses of iced tea.

Preferring the direct approach, Sam said, "Bob told me he had an affair with Jan."

Sherry slouched over the table. "I'm so sorry." Staring at her drink, she rolled the cold surface between her palms. "He threatened to tell you if I testified."

"You believe him?" he asked, and then took a sip to lubricate a dry throat.

Long seconds passed. Brown liquid sloshed and ice tinkled before she answered. "I didn't believe it, until he told me certain things, some intimate details."

"And how would you know those kind of details?"

"The notebook, Sam." She gazed outside, into her Eden. "Jan was very explicit."

Her face reddened as he studied her with squinty-eyed intensity. "Why didn't you tell me what Bob was going to do, so I’d be prepared?"

"Why do you think? Don't act so dense." Her voice softened. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I didn't want Jan's memory ruined.” In a whisper, she added, “It wasn't fair -- after all you've been through."

"So, you thought if you drove me away I'd be happy?"

"No, not happy, but maybe drive you away to a safe distance. I thought Bob was bluffing and, if you didn't go to court with me, he might keep his mouth shut."

"Why didn't you just stay home and not testify?"

"Would you?"

Sam closed his eyes, thought it over, and said, "No.” He opened his eyes to meet hers. “I'm proud of you."

Tears began to spill from Sherry's brimming blues.

He stood, moved to her side and pulled her up. She smelled like Jan used to after time in the sun. It was an earthy, herbal, feminine mixture that evoked raw emotions from past memories and present revelations. Playing with her hair, he fluffed out more of the aroma, and kissed her hard on the mouth. His hands balled into fists and pulled her head back to expose her neck.

“Sam, that hurts.”

Anger at Jan’s betrayal and a monstrous sensation of failure erupted. He wanted to strike back. Get even. Prove he was a manly man and not a weak, pussy-whipped eunuch. One hand slid down and squeezed her ass. His lips sucked on her throat.

Sherry tensed, and tried to push away.

The hand on her ass lifted the hem and dove into her panties. The other found the zipper at her neck and jerked it down.

“Sam, I don’t like this.”

“Sure you do. Just give in. You know you want it,” he said, fumbling to unclasp her bra.

“Don’t!”

He did. The elastic sprang apart the same instant his face recoiled from a slap hard enough to echo inside his skull. Shame swirled in his stomach and drained him like a flushed toilet. Suddenly empty, he let go and ran to his truck, ignoring the shouts for him to come back. Somehow he’d become a stranger to himself. Everything he believed true and solid became quicksand. There was nothing to hold onto. No one to believe in.

Miles clicked swiftly by until he’d reached the vacant, country roads of home. Maples, oaks and pines blurred in his clouded vision. He began eyeing the closest and thickest trunks. One quick swerve and his misery would be over -- if it weren’t for Chris. As much as he hurt, Sam couldn’t put Chris through another death, not on purpose, not out of selfishness.

Holding on to anger and letting go of self-contempt, he drove home.

The answering machine blinked. He hit play.

Sherry’s pleading voice said, “Sam, please come back. I understand you’re upset. We can work this out together. If you won’t come back, call me so I know you’re all right. Don’t forget I have to tell you where the spare key is hidden. You’re still going to work on the bathroom while I’m gone, aren’t you? I love you.”

Women, they’re all alike. Use you until something better comes along.

He began cleaning house. Ripping Jan’s clothes off their hangers and tossing them on the floor felt good. Soon there was a pile in the hallway. He yanked open her dresser drawers and dumped the contents atop the multicolored mound. No one should ever wear them again. A fire seemed the best solution; maybe burn them right in the sanctity of their bedroom. Burn down the whole damn house.

As Sam scowled over the adulterous wardrobe, he morbidly wondered what she wore that day. Replaying the confrontation in the men’s room for the hundredth time, something Bob said made his heart skip. He kicked around the pile and found only one pair of garters and stockings, but no pantyhose. Jan never wore pantyhose. She hated them, and didn’t like to wear stockings of any kind.

Materializing as a vision of renewed hope, another possibility sprang to mind.

Twelve miles later, Sam stood outside Sherry’s front door. Anxiously, he groped along the top of the doorjamb and checked under the welcome mat. Nothing hidden there. He continued his search beneath the overgrown shrubs along the sidewalk. Three feet from the front door sat a conspicuous rock. He picked up the lightweight imitation and turned it over to find the plastic cover of a hidden compartment. After rotating the lid he removed a key.

"Thank you, God.”

Driving the few miles back to a hardware store, Sam had a copy of the key made without question.

On the return trip, he drove by Sherry’s house and made a left at the next block. The playground parking lot was only two houses from the corner. Shrubs or privacy fences with padlocked gates hid most of the backyards adjacent to the ball field, except for one yard where a nylon rope hung down from a brass bell. On the gate was posted a flowery sign that read "If your baseball is in my yard please ring the bell before entering. The gate is locked at night."

"I doubt it." Sam commented to no one. Without ringing the foul ball bell, he entered Sherry's Eden, thinking, "This must be how Bob slithered in."

No sign of life showed in any of the windows. Sam strolled undetected to the backdoor and slid in the new, made-while-you-wait key. With just a sneaky click of the dead bolt he was in the basement.

"Good copy.” The shiny brass duplicate went into his pocket.

The house was quiet. The carpeted stairs muffled a few squeaky treads. The first floor was as silent as the basement. A new fear for her safety grew.

The cluttered desk in the corner seemed a likely place to start. Nothing looked promising on the outside. He opened the top drawer.

“What's this?”

Jan’s doodled notebook with “Sam” on the cover lay right on top. He closed the drawer, certain that Bob broke in and read it. It was the only explanation that made sense, the only explanation he could live with.

Sickened by the idea someone would use her intimate memoirs against him, his legs weakened, so he sat in a chair and let his thoughts wander. Two remarkable women loved him. The first had mentored the second, unknowingly as friends, and then intentionally. Jan had loved him that much, knew him that well. And now Sherry, an extension of Jan's devotion, wanted him. If he lost her it would be like another death.

Sam wandered down the hall and stopped in the bathroom. The humidity from a recent shower hung in the air. A wet towel lay on the floor. He picked it up, and smiled. "She's not a neat freak."

The hinges of Sherry's bedroom door complained briefly as he peeked in. The air conditioner muted the sound. She lay on her stomach, facing away, covered in quilt. Her bare arms hugged the pillow. A tremor began in her right leg, then the left. The left hand slapped the mattress. Quickly, the motions became violent. He heard a whimpered, "No!"

Moving to the foot of the bed, Sam sat down, gently rubbed her calf through the sheet, and said soothingly, "Sherry, it's all right. Everything's all right."

There was a sharp intake of breath. She opened her eyes. "Sam?"

"Hi, Honey."

Her body relaxed under his hand. She rolled onto her back. "I was having an awful dream."

"I noticed."

"How long have you been here?" she asked, adjusting the pillow to hold up her head. The sheet slipped down, revealing the scenic entrance to breast valley.

"Just got back." Sam pulled the bottom of the sheet out from under the mattress and folded it back to expose her legs from the knees down. Lifting a foot onto his lap, he began gently pressing his thumbs into the sole from the toes to the heel.

With eyes closed and a, "mmmm", Sherry sank back into the pillow.

Continuing his fancy foot work, Sam said, "I know it's early, but can I tell you a bedtime story?"

She frowned, "Does it have a happy ending?"

"Yes."

"Then I'd love to hear it," she said, wiggling her toes.

Sam began in a soft bedtime story voice, "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Indian princess with delicious toes," and then bent down to nibbled on them.

Sherry giggled.

Switching to the other foot, he continued, "This princess was called Sherry because of her drinking problem."

She playfully kicked him with the free foot. "Not funny!"

"I mean... because of her intoxicating beauty."

"Awww," she sighed, and briefly stroked his forearm with the kicking toes.

"Early in Sherry's life, she escaped from the clutches of an evildoer, named Bob the Blank. He was called this funny name because he had no ammunition in his tiny popgun." Sam continued to massage while she continued to smile with eyes closed. "Sherry was a brave princess, and wanted to help other victims escape Bob's destructive power. Blankity Bob found out and planned to stop her. So he went to Sherry’s home, but she wasn't there. He knew Sherry lived alone and that she kept a key hidden for emergencies. Searching along the sidewalk, Bob found a hollow rock under a bush that held the key."

Her eyes flashed open and stared upward, as her mind seemed to consider the possibilities.

"Bob took the key to a locksmith, had a copy made, and then put back the original, so Sherry would never know. Waiting until she was out, he snuck in through the garden gate and entered the basement to search for a way to stop Sherry from testifying. He found a book of secrets in the desk drawer, and devised a plan to trick Sherry into silence. Trying to manipulate her compassion towards others, he made threats to hurt the man she had fallen in love with. The malicious plan backfired when Sherry's handsome, cowboy lover…"

She groaned.

"…realized something was wrong and would not leave her to face Bob alone. The dastardly plan was exposed when Bob made good on his threat and told the cowboy a hateful lie."

Tired with the fairytale account, Sam spoke in his normal voice. "I almost believed him until he said Jan wore pantyhose. Jan hated stockings, especially pantyhose. She thought it was like wearing long johns that were too tight.” Sliding his palms up Sherry's smooth shins to just above the knees, Sam added, "She had legs like yours. Putting anything over them only diminished their appeal." He bent his head and kissed them. Looking up her body, he witnessed a tear run down her cheek.

She asked, "Then, you're sure he didn't sleep with her?"

"As sure as I am that Jan loved me and hated Bob for what he did to you. It makes me sick to my stomach to think, even for a moment, Jan would have anything to do with him."

Sam traveled up her body and she spread her legs to accommodate the motion. His hands cupped her face as he dipped his head and kissed her flooded eyes. Tears dripped as she closed them to his tender lips.

He waited until she opened them again, and asked, "You know what else I'm sure of?"

Worry clouded her face, "That I'm more trouble than I'm worth?"

He wrapped her sheathed torso in his arms. Pressing himself to her, he caressed her ear with, "Sherry, I love you." Spoken from his heart, the words were a thrilling liberation. The truth set him free.

"Oh, Sam, I love you too!"

Sherry's answer fueled his fevered lips. He kissed her ear, neck, and cheek, finally covering her mouth. Their arms embraced one another. Bodies responded to the natural flow of affection. Even through clothes and sheets, Sherry found his hardening cock and ground against it. The covers had fallen off her breasts. Sam kissed down to tease each one. Her responsiveness stiffened him fully. How could he not want her always? Had she not proved loving and faithful? Was she not beautiful inside and out? Hadn't Jan prayed for this?

These whirling thoughts made Sam dizzy and he rolled onto his back.

Wrapping the sheet around her, looking worried once again, Sherry turned onto her side. Her hand reached out and cupped his cheek. She laid her head on his shoulder, burrowed into the crook of his arm, and cuddled up.

After an extended quiet, Sam said, "Sherry, what I'm about to say is going to sound crazy, but wait until I'm finished before you say anything."

With apprehension in her voice, she said, "All right, Sam.”

"You can't stay here tonight. It's not safe. And I don't want you to go away." He kissed her hair, then continued, "I have two weeks vacation left, and I could take them starting today. So what I think we should do is pack some of your stuff and have you move in with my mother for a few days. You'd be safe there, until our blood tests are done and our marriage license is ready."

Her body tensed.

He plunged on. "Will you marry me, Sherry? I want you to be with me, always. I know these last two weeks have been wild, but I'm sure, as I'll ever be, that we are meant to be together. I don't want to wait. Let's not give Bob the chance to tear us apart, or ruin our reputations."

Climbing on top, Sherry looked down on his smiling face. His hands began to slide the sheet back and forth over her bottom.

She asked the obvious question. "After what you heard in court, are you afraid I'm pregnant?"

The strong hands slipped up her sides. "Actually, I know it's wrong, but... I hope you are." He moved a palm up to cradle her cheek and she rubbed her face against it, cat like.

She kissed his palm, and asked, "What happened to the man that said he was too old to raise a baby?"

"A miracle happened. The man found a woman that made him feel forever young." After a pause, he added, "And if you're not pregnant now, we'll give it our best shot for a year. Then I'll go to the snip-and-clip doctor."

With an astonished face, she said, "What! You haven't been giving me your best shot already? I don't know if I can marry a man that's been less than forthcoming," then pecked his lips, swept the hair from her face, and grinned naughtily.

He pointed out, "If you want a fourth coming man you'd better find an 18 year old stud. The best you'll get out of me is two, on a good day." He wrapped his arms around her, showing he wouldn't let her go without a struggle. "But you'd be giving up quality for quantity."

"Um," she looked off with a reflective expression, and tapped an index finger on her cheek as she considered her choices. "Quality usually lasts longer. And I've already experience the short and cheap marriage."

Apparently coming to a decision, Sherry stretched out atop Sam. Throwing the sheet over their heads, encasing him in her cocoon, they lay nose to nose, feeling the other's breath and the expansion and contraction of chests.

"Yes, Sam. I'll marry you. I've prayed for this, and now it's hard to believe it’s real."

His hand slid down toward her bottom.

"Don't you dare pinch me! I know this isn't a dream," she said, and grabbed his wrist.

"Man! You're already reading my mind like a wife." Lifting his head, he kissed her. She kissed back hard, pressing his head to the mattress.

Breaking the heated embrace, Sam tipped her over and pushed down her panties as she worked open his pants. They were both ready. When she positioned his cock he slipped in.

With deliberate sluggishness they made languid love, a tender joining of bodies filled with rekindled joy.

Sam fingered her clitoris, saying, “I hope we make a girl. Chris should have a little sister to look out for.”

Sherry groaned and squeezed, as her climax came.

Sam pumped faster and released the building pleasure.

They lay entwined, quietly kissing. He smiled at his fiancée, wrapped in the sheet. The craving to ravish her until she was hoarse from screaming-orgasms burned hot.

Instead, he bounced off the bed. "I heard it was unlucky to see the bride in her birthday suit before the wedding." Waving, he left with, "The sooner the paperwork's done. The sooner I'll have you all to myself. You'd better start packing."

If he'd waited, she would have treated him to a charming bridal blush.