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This time Turner took the lead as they walked, and he
wove his fingers with hers in a way she liked very much. But
instead of glancing back at her, even occasionally, he kept
his gaze trained forward. And he kept walking forward, too,
and she kept following, farther from the house and deeper
into the shadows until they were threading their way through
the lines of cars. Finally, he drew them both to a halt, at the
very farthest corner of the makeshift parking lot, next to a
car unlike any she had ever seen.
A 1957 Rolls Royce Silver Spirit, Turner said before
she could even ask what it was. Oh, man. This baby is
unbelievable.
A car? Becca wanted to say. He d been speaking with
awe, reverence and not a little affection about a car?
Instead of her ass, he d been looking at a car? His
borderline orgasm had been over a car?
Okay, so it was a nice car, she had to admit when she
gave it a second look. It was big and elegant and
excessive, gleaming silver in the scant moonlight overhead.
The interior, she saw as she gazed through the driver s-
side window, was as beautifully constructed as the exterior,
with leather upholstery, finely crafted accessories and
burled walnut on the dashboard.
And also a nice, big back seat.
Without thinking, she reached for the handle of the
back door and jerked it upward, and was only marginally
surprised when it sprang open and the interior light went on
but an alarm didn t go off.
Becca! Turner cried when he saw her do it. He
slammed the door shut again. What the hell do you think
you re doing? Someone might see the light and think we re
trying to jack this thing.
She ignored him, pulling on the handle again, opening
the door wider this time. It wasn t the car she was looking to
jack. I m getting in, she said as she did just that, as if the
car belonged to her. Come on. Let s see what it s like to
ride in a Rolls. Especially the kind of riding she had in
mind.
Are you crazy? he said. Get out of there!
No, she told him, smiling. You get in here.
That car belongs to Englund s father! he told her,
clearly struggling to keep his voice down.
Well, he ll never know, she pointed out. Not unless
you keep standing out there yelling at me.
I m not yelling! he yelled.
When he realized how loudly he d spoken, he quickly
looked left, then right, then behind him to see if anyone had
heard. But they were very much alone out here, and
considering how loud the music and conversation had been
inside, she figured they could detonate a ten-ton bomb
before anyone would notice where they were.
Come on, Turner, she said again, patting the seat
beside her. You know you want to.
Becca& he began, his voice edged with warning.
What s the matter? she prodded. Are you chicken?
Becca&
Don t you want to see how the other half lives? Or at
least drives?
Becca&
She pointed at the overhead light. That can be seen
from the house, you know, she told him. Unless you want
someone to catch us out here, you better close the door.
Then get out, he instructed her.
You get in.
He was clearly torn. Part of him, she could see, just
wanted to get the hell out of here and hope no one had
seen them yet. But another part a bigger part obviously
wanted to get into the car, too, to see what it was like to
ride the way the big boys rode. He glanced over his
shoulder again. He looked at Becca. Over his shoulder.
Back at Becca. He smiled.
And slipped into the car beside her, closing the door
behind himself.
Wow, he said as he leaned back against the broad
seat and took in his surroundings. This is incredible. Now
this is a car. Can you imagine sitting in the back of one of
these babies?
She smiled. Um, we don t have to imagine it, Turner.
We are sitting in the back seat of one of these babies.
Oh. Yeah. Well, can you imagine sitting in the back of
one of these babies while a gorgeous chauffeur takes care
of your every need?
Oh, yeah. That was just the opening she d been
waiting for.
You don t have to imagine that, either, Turner, she
said softly, reaching toward him. Because although I m no
chauffeur, I know how to drive a man. And I m about to take
care of your every need& .
9
TURNER JERKED HIS HEAD around to look at Becca, certain he
must have misunderstood what she d just said. Or, at least,
what she meant by what she d just said. Hell, he d found a
sexual innuendo in almost every word she d spoken during
the past week. But even in the scant light of the moon
filtering through the car s windows, he could see that she
looked very much the way she d looked before, on those
occasions when she d gotten him all worked up just to tell
him they d be making a terrible mistake to take things
where she d so clearly intended to take them.
Not. Again.
Becca, don t, he said adamantly, wanting to nip this
thing in the bud though, granted, that was kind of a painful
metaphor to use, all things considered before it even got
started.
Don t what? she asked. Don t take care of your
every need?
Don t even talk about my needs, he said sternly. We
both agreed we re not going to go down this road again.
What road? she asked. I don t know what you re
talking about.
Turner eyed her warily. Okay, maybe he was jumping
to conclusions here. Maybe she d meant something else
entirely. Maybe she d been talking about different needs
than the ones he thought she meant. Maybe she was talking
about his automotive needs. Yeah, that was it. Things like
good mileage, and decent shock absorbers, and the best
steel-belted radials money could buy. But when he looked
at her face again, he suspected it wasn t tire tread she was
thinking about just then. And his suspicion only grew when
she opened her hand over his cock and began rubbing it as
she pressed her mouth to his.
Oh. Okay. So then it wasn t his automotive needs she
was talking about.
For one scant, delirious moment, Turner eagerly
returned her kiss, because he was just too surprised and
stunned and also interested not to. He even went so far
as to tangle his fingers in her hair and cup his hand over the
back of her head to draw her closer, mindless of the fact
that they were already about as close as two people could
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| Cytat |
Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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