8
By the yellow light of the beside lamp, the folds of Lee-Ann's labia reminded me of shelf fungus growing on a tree stump: The host can no longer bear its own fruit, but life insists on flourishing wherever it can find nourishment. And these meaty petals were full of life, engorged and swollen, all the more prominent for being situated on Lee-Ann's tiny frame.
I had this clear view of her organ in bloom because she was straddling my chest and ministering to my own organ, which was similarly pulsing with vitality in the middle reaches of the king bed. Our arrangement was itself organic, having come about wordlessly on my return from dinner and drinks at Augustus to find Lee-Ann toweling off from a shower in my en-suite. I'd already spent the last hour tossing her around on the bed, gouging her deeply from all angles, making her squeak in delight and, occasionally, hiss like a cornered cat. Our only communication so far had come when Lee-Ann, face to the mattress, quivering to the last echo of her fourth orgasm, said, "Yo nuhnuh um ya, hah hah hah?"
I spanked her ass playfully and said, "Speak up, dear, this time with less sheet in your maw."
"I said," she said, turning her head to one side, still gasping a little, "you didn't come yet, did you, hon?"
"Not yet."
"Whew," she said, as though reaching a mountain top only to find another sheer face confronting her. "Hah. Hoo. Well, I guess we better do something about that, huh?"
"No rush." I stirred her with a slow clockwise motion. "You're having an unusual effect on me. Look."
I withdrew from her slick purse and waved my cock around in the heavy bedroom air. She collapsed forward but quickly flipped onto her back to see what I was talking about.
"You made it bigger," I said, and I have to admit I was as surprised as Lee-Ann looked.
"Jesus Lord," she said, "no wonder I couldn't breathe. What happened?"
"I guess the more you demanded I fuck you, the harder and longer I got."
"I demanded? Jeez, you fucked me like a rag-doll, babe, I just went along with it. You're insatiable, you know?" She swatted at my erection. "I mean literally, look at you. What does it take, Freddie?"
I laughed. "Beats me."
"Does it hurt?"
"Not yet, but if you don't do something soon to help me you might have a medical emergency on your hands."
"I feel bad. Am I doing something wrong?" There was a note of worry in her voice.
"Not at all. In fact I love how you squirm and try to get away and then I pin you to the bed with, well, with this."
"God, how long is it, anyway?"
Knowing most women don't have a good eye for estimating distances I said, "It's got to be twenty-three, twenty-four inches by now."
"Twenty-fo--that's two feet!"
"I believe your math is correct."
She was massaging the terminal six inches including the distended head. She got up on one elbow and I watched her take the first couple of inches into her mouth. "How about if I do this," she said, sliding me out to speak then quickly back in again.
"That'll work," I said, "but I'll need to be on my back, and I'll need to see your pretty little ass at all times."
"Okay." She was full of enthusiasm again, jumping up to give me the choice of location on the tennis-court sized bed.
I flopped down on my back and made a mattress angel, because I could, then patted her hip to guide her into place.
I enjoyed watching the clenching and unclenching of her butt cheeks as she organized her tiny frame across my chest and belly. She hitched back a little as she gauged the necessary room she'd need at the business end, such that when she'd settled, her puffy minge was radiating its heat directly onto my chin. I raised my head enough to kiss her asshole and she clenched her cheeks again and wiggled coquettishly. I lay back, tugging the short end of a pillow under my head, and instructed Lee-Ann's vulva to tell Lee-Ann to remember to breathe through her nose. I don't know if she got the message.
Since Mr. Longfellow had made a surprising but welcome cameo appearance, I naturally speculated how much of him Lee-Ann would be able to accommodate. I was sporting the girth of a soda can and I wondered dreamily if she would have to remove her teeth to fit everything in satisfactorily. But my thoughts were becoming unerotically anatomical at this point, and I had to make the conscious decision to turn off these musings for fear of the whole enterprise taking up another hour. By now, all I really desired was to bury my face in Lee-Ann's hair and snore my way to morning (a longed-for conclusion to the evening that had taken on the aura of an unreachable promised land of companionable close contact and simple rest).
The added mass did not appear to have been accompanied by an increase in sensitivity, and as such I felt somewhat detached from the proceedings. I decided to help things along with some gentle hip thrusts in the hopes of achieving at least fifty percent embedment in Lee-Ann's throat. But after a promising start I heard an urgent-sounding noise accompanied by a sudden slapping on my left hip. All motion was suspended by both parties until I lowered my pelvis back to resting position on the bed. I felt Lee-Ann's left hand run down the top of my thigh to indicate approval.
What Lee-Ann did next turned out to be the clincher. As her hand trailed back up my thigh it veered centrally and I suddenly felt my sack gripped by a fist in an iron glove and my balls squeezed to the brink of rupture.
There followed a quickening spiral of mental dislocation accompanied by a concentration of acute physical awareness. Lee-Ann found a rhythm that was evidently in concert with my innate frequency, and indeed as she progressed I had the dreamlike impression that a single piano key--one of the low ones--was being pounded in time with this rhythm, over, and again, over, and again, the same note sounding in my head like a bell in an empty dungeon.
I have no sense of how long this went on, only the certain knowledge that the end was finally near and inescapable...
...It may have been sleep finally drawing me down and further confusing my already addled senses, but just as I was going under for the last time, I thought I heard Lee-Ann asking the waitress for one of those long metal spoons so she could get the last of the thick stuff down at the bottom of her milkshake.
I awoke to the sound of a phone ringing somewhere far off in the house. Sunlight was shining past the edges of the frilly and fussy curtains. It took me a moment to remember where I was. The ceiling fan tipped me off, with its ornate blades and its four lamp shades, also frilly. Everything in the Lancelot was frilly, or otherwise overdone. Old, too, like the telephone trilling downstairs, the old-fashioned kind with an actual bell inside the phone, loud enough to summon the fire department. Or so it seemed inside my disoriented head.
As always when waking to the sound of a phone, it already felt as if it had been ringing forever. I lay there listening to it, wondering if anyone would answer it, wondering what time it was.
The night before seeped through to my growing awareness and I remembered Lee-Ann. I looked around and saw her across the bed, curled up like a kitten, cheek on her crossed hands. I wasn't surprised to see her--a flickering home movie of the previous night was already spooling past my mind's eye--but I
was
surprised she was still here. Wasn't she taking a huge risk being out of place at the start of the day?
The ringing phone began to bother me more. I craned my neck to see the clock on the night stand: 7:05. Early for a normal business call. Something more urgent? Finally the ringing stopped, though it was too far away to know if the phone had been answered or the caller had simply given up. In the restored quiet I rolled over on the bed towards Lee-Ann. Her face was peaceful but looked somewhat raw, as if exposed to too much sun or suffering an allergic reaction. A yellow pimple was developing on the side of her nose.
"Hey," I said gently, and stroked her hair once. "Time to wake up."
"Huh."
"Day's already started. You can't be here."
"Shit, I fell asleep, didn't I?" She raised her head to look at me.
"It's after seven."
It was about then I heard the squeak of old wood outside the room door, a foot flexing a well-trodden floorboard. We both heard the heavy chunk of the lock being turned. I froze, but Lee-Ann rolled over to watch as the door slowly opened. It stopped about eighteen inches into the room and there was a patch of shadow on the wall by the light switch.
"Lee-Ann?" Jim's voice. Tight and troubled. "Lee-Ann, it's Jim. We have an emergency... It's Beth. She's gone again."
Lee-Ann let out a quiet sigh and then called, "Okay, hon, I'll be right there."
The shadow receded and the door was pulled to but not fully closed. I heard receding wooden squeaks as Jim descended the stairs.
It probably wasn't the right moment to say it, but I did. "I guess he knew where to find you."
Lee-Ann was already dressing with haste. She dismissed my question with a wave. "There weren't that many possibilities."
Oh.
I said, "I hope there's nothing serious going on with your daughter."
"I guess we'll find out," she said, unable to hide the frustration in her voice. She paused, and I could sense the debate within, whether to say more. "Bethany's taken off from school before. This is her final year. I thought we were done with all the histrionics."
"How long will it take to get to Raleigh, a couple hours?"
"We'll be headed farther than Raleigh if it's anything like last time. Probably closer to the coast."
She'd finished dressing and apparently finished explaining, too.
"It could be late tonight before we get back. Maybe even...anyway, I'll tell Inez to take care of things best she can. I'm afraid it'll be spartan."
"No problem," I said. "I hope it all turns out well."
She gave a quick tight smile, said "Thanks," and left. As soon as the door was closed I headed for the shower.
It's been a long time since I cared what goes on between people in their relationships, in the event I happen to be involved in some way. If things go wrong, they generally go wrong for a set of reasons that were in place long before I showed up. A brick flying through the air can't be responsible for the window it happens to crash through. In my old line of work, the faster you learned this the faster you improved at your job. I did a bunch of stories that uncovered enough evidence to land people in jail; did that make me responsible for those guys being locked up?
catalyst
, n. 1. (
Chem.
) a substance that causes catalysis. 2. that which causes activity between two or more persons or forces without itself being affected.
I didn't know the circumstances of Jim and Lee-Ann's relationship, but based on what I'd just witnessed, it was obvious I wasn't the start of anything.
9
It was around eight o'clock when I sat down to breakfast. The Lancelot's dining room accommodated seven small tables, each with a linen table cloth and a pair (here and there two pairs) of wooden dining chairs. I was the only guest in the place. I assumed the McElroys had already eaten and left for the day, and so far I'd seen no indication anyone else was in residence.
I was waited on by an anxious Inez--dressed in a fresh white blouse and narrow black skirt--who kept coming to my table to apologize for not being able to provide any of the cooked items on the menu. For some reason I'd gotten it into my head that Jim Armstrong must be one hell of a short-order cook, and I was taking his absence hard. Home fries (country style) mocked me from the small menu card, as did the bacon, sausage, and two eggs (any style). It was just cruel.
"Could you at least get me some toast?" I asked Inez.
Even to this simple request she reacted with a strenuous shake of her head.
"Jim said no cooking when he's not here. Insurance."
