Amber sat in her mustang in front of the Never place watching the clock. Nearly 11:30. She could drive home, go to bed, forget all about August. Well, no. She could never forget all about August. No matter what.
She wore the flowered dress and red sweater she had worn the first time they had come together. To make a new start, she thought, that's what this is about. She closed her eyes and waited out the time. The wind beat dry leaves against her windshield.
12:05 she walked up the steps to Never's front door. It opened before she could knock.
"You're late." His pants and vest were black, his shirt so deep a red it might as well have been. His face was grim.
"Only 5 minutes."
"Never be late again. Never be early. If you want to wait a half hour wondering if you should come in, do it at the door."
"Jesus! You need to print up a rulebook." Her usual snappy reply got no answering smirk.
"One other thing. The moment you cross this doorstep, no is no longer an acceptable answer."
"You're serious?"
"I didn't call you. You called me. I still have a name, you don't."
I'm Amber, she thought. I still am, somewhere deep inside I still am. She reached out her hand and steadied herself on his arm as she walked through the door. And now I can't refuse him.
Inside a dozen black candles were flickering. A strange acrid smell of herbs and perfume assaulted her senses. She glanced upstairs, beyond the landing it was pitch black.
"This doesn't happen in the house." He walked ahead of her towards the back door. Opened it and allowed her to walk out into the still dark garden ahead of him. "You're dressed a little unseasonably for this sort of thing, but that was certain to happen sooner or later."
The wind was chill. Amber clutched her sweater to her. August pryed her hands away from the warmth and unbuttoned her top to the waist. He looked at her brassiere and slipped his knife out of his pocket.
"You can take it off. Or I can cut it off. Choose." He flicked the knife open like a sharp erection and waited. She hurriedly slipped her sweater off and undid her bra. He took it out of her hands and tossed it aside. Slipped her sweater back on, his hands sliding past her breasts as he made sure it would stay open. The cold danced over her nipples and hardened them.
She started to cross her arms against the cold but stopped as he narrowed his eyes. "That's good. I don't just want to see them. I want you to feel them." He took her by her right arm and led her to the big gargoyle near the garden wall. The iron gate was hanging wide open. If there had been anyone on the street they could have seen her.
He put her arms around the gargoyle's wings. She had to lean over at an awkward angle to hold on. He pushed her head closer to the bulbous stone head till she was resting against it, her breasts pressed against the rough pitted granite. Then he slit her skirt open from the back of her waist to her hem. The cold flew in there too. She held hard to the rock wings and tried to stop shaking. He pulled her head back gently and showed her the knife, showed her how he folded it up and tossed it against the wall. Then he took her panties off and stuffed them in her mouth.