Chapter 13

Moving with great stealth, Craft slunk along the back of the apartment building. He crept to the carports and risked a look around the corner. Neither Watlington's nor Baumler's cars were in their stalls. Phyllis' Toyota was there, but she didn't worry him. She'd be at work, and she always took the bus to avoid having to find downtown parking. Flo's car was gone, too.

Satisfied, Craft trotted back along the rear of the building until he came to his own apartment window. He removed the screen with practiced ease and slipped over the sill. All was dark inside. He felt his way around his bed by the dim light coming through the now open window. He dared not turn on a light.

He fumbled through the darkness, gathering clothing and personal possessions into a pile on the bed. He cleaned out the bathroom cabinet, being careful of his needle and spoon, his "outfit." He wrapped these, along with the rubber surgical tube he used to tie off, in a soft bag and placed them in his pants pocket. He caught sight of his grisly countenance in the mirror. Dried blood and straw turned his face hideous. And the hollowness of his cheeks and eyes spoke of more than shock and pain. They spoke of a very bad need for heroin.

Craft realized that he was in bad shape. His head was one large, dull pain. He was hungry and sick and his muscles felt like water. Soon, he must get into Watlington's apartment. Get into the medicine cabinet. Very soon.

His hands trembling, Craft turned on the cold tap and washed his face and torso. He made whimpering sounds as the cold water touched his gashed flesh. He dried himself and crept back into the bedroom. He took a shirt off the pile of clothes on the bed and put it on. Then he tied the bundle in a sheet and tossed it out the window. He followed the bundle.

Outside, he stashed the bundle of his worldly possessions near the corner of the building. He peered nervously in the direction of the carport one last time, then slunk down the sidewalk to the stairs. He tiptoed up them and listened intently at Watlington's apartment door. Apparently satisfied, he reached into his shoe and took out a small tool, which he used to jimmy the lock.

He eased himself inside. There was a lamp on in the living room, but no one was there. Rapidly, he crossed to the bedroom door and peered through the keyhole. He opened the door and stepped in, on the light. Empty. He crossed to the heavy door in the far wall. The door to the hidden room. The door to the drug cabinet. Again he went through the listening and peering routine. Again, satisfied, he jimmied the lock. He stepped inside and began to feel his way across to the throne, behind which, he knew, stood the drug cabinet. He reached his objective and began to feel for the cabinet door.

Then the lights came on.

"Hello, Walt."

Four figures, all in black leather, stood in a circle around him.

Suzanne rolled over in her sleep and snuggled against Harry's broad back. His long blond hair fell across her face as he shifted in response and tickled her nose. She sneezed.

"Bless you," Harry said sleepily.

"Thank you," Suzanne said, a smile in her voice. She couldn't decide if she were hornier or sleepier. Eventually, though, the thought of her coming revenge against Craft woke her through sheer excitement. She nudged Harry mischievously. He responded with a half snore, half grunt and hunched his shoulders. Suzanne began to lick the back of his neck and to breathe into his ear. He sighed and rolled over to her. "Christ. You're worse than Seal."

"You're irresistible, that's all."

Harry grinned and kissed her on the nose. "Well, I guess I might as well. You aren't going to let me sleep."

Suzanne smiled as she felt the insistent prod of his cock against her belly. She wiggled her torso a little, brushing the fine hairs on her stomach against the sensitive tip of the organ.

Harry responded by taking her in his arms and pulling her against his body. He kissed her passionately. He slid a hand down over her rump and caressed her flanks. She lifted a leg and threw it across his hips. He slipped his hand between their bodies and brushed the fur of her bush with the back of it. She pressed herself harder against him, rubbing her breasts into his chest.

Harry played with her cunt a little while, exploring, sliding his fingers along the moistness between her labial lips, tickling the edges of her hole. Then he took his cock in hand and probed until he found her hole with it. He eased his rump forward, letting his big cock slide inside her. They both let out deep, satisfied breaths.

Suzanne began to hump against him, using the leg she had hooked over his hips for leverage. Harry humped back, so that they lay undulating in slow motion like an underwater ballet, back and forth like eels. Suzanne held the underwater image in her mind. She saw herself as some beautiful aquatic creature, making sensuous motions while deep green fronds waved slowly in the liquid air.

Harry seemed to sense her mood and continued to move in deep, slow waves, his cock gliding in and out of her body like an oiled piston revving a slow motor. Their lips came together and parted in even slower cycles. Each explored the other's mouth in turn. Suzanne licked Harry's lips and teeth with her tongue, feeling his warm, fruity breath exchanging with her own. Harry parted her teeth with his tongue and searched out the corners and curves of her mouth.

Their hands moved over the curves and angles of each other's body as if independent of the people they were attached to. They fingered and tickled and caressed. There was no portion of skin on either person that did not feel the touch of the other's hands.

Gradually, the mood changed. The waters of Suzanne's imagination changed from the green of the deep sea to a yellow, and then to orange, as if a volcano were beginning to erupt nearby. She responded by a certain tenseness, an unspoken communication of need that raised both the tempo and the passion of their lovemaking. She felt Harry's hands tighten their grip on her flesh and her own did likewise on his. The leg she had thrown over his hips parted of its own accord, the knee drawing up the side of his body, the pussy being thus opened like a flower to receive him more deeply inside.

There was a rush of simultaneous heat in the two people. Harry became a bull, pounding into Suzanne as if he were exorcizing some sort of demon. Suzanne gave herself over to him, becoming limp and totally submissive to his attack. Her head and upper torso rolled flat onto the bed and her arm fell away to hang limply off the side of the mattress, her fingers relaxed with knuckles resting on the floor.

Harry seemed spurred on by her submission. His attack became almost brutal. He whuffed in great snorts of breath and chuffed them out like explosions. The heat of their copulation rose to him, carrying the sweet smell of the lovemaking. Like an aphrodisiac, it drove him into an exaltation of action. The juicy sounds of his cock ramming into her hole mixed with the fleshy slap of their bellies meeting to produce a concert of love sounds that added drive to the assault.

Then Harry began to strain, his neck becoming corded. His fingers left white circles where they gripped Suzanne's body. His whole being quivered and shook. And then he came. With a heavy slam, a grunt, and a long, drawn-out sigh.

Suzanne lay still, her eyes closed and a smile of complete satisfaction on her face. She had come, too... was still coming, in fact. But it was a slow, wavelike orgasm that warmed rather than burned. It swept her in a molasses-tide, washing all tension from her. She thought of butterflies and daisies and all the good things from her childhood. And it went on for the better part of five minutes.

They lay together, still connected, for almost an hour. Then began to pet and kiss again. But it didn't get far. Seal walked in and shook her head. "Boy, what a pair. Fuck all day yesterday, all night last night, and still fucking this morning."

She came over and jumped on the mattress. She playfully stuck her tongue in her husband's ear. "Hi, lover." She crawled across him and kissed Suzanne on the forehead. "Didn't I tell you he was good?"

Suzanne nodded. "He's good."

"He seems to like you, although it's hard to tell. He used to fuck me for two or three days straight. Now that I'm just his wife, he's cut me down to once a month."

Harry pinched Seal's tit. "Yeah. From the first to the thirtieth. Then I get a day off."

Seal squealed and began to wrestle with her husband, laughingly attacking him. They rolled off the mattress and across the floor, Harry trying to get her dress over her hips and she defending herself in mock terror.

Suzanne grinned at the pair and got up. She made her way to the bathroom and did her morning business. When she came out, she avoided the bedroom. She could hear the couple making love. She marveled at Harry's ability to do it and do it and come back for more. She knew - even with her limited experience-that most men gave out after a couple of rounds.

Louis wasn't in the house, so Suzanne started some breakfast, although it was obviously afternoon. She tried to time it so that she'd have it ready when Harry and Seal were through. She made it. Seal, naked and happy, came in just as Suzanne pulled the scrambled eggs and steak off the stove. Harry was just behind his wife, also naked.

"Wow," Seal said. "Now that's what I call a fine woman!"

"Yeah," Harry added, "let's keep her."

They sat and put away the food, making small, happy talk through the meal. As they finished up, Seal put on a serious look and spoke to Suzanne. "Why don't you stay with us, Suzy? We'd like to have you. And I think you'd be pretty well off here."

Suzanne shook her head. "No, I can't. Not yet, anyway."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"I've got some things to get out of my system."

Seal laid a hand on Suzanne's arm. "You aren't going back to that creep hangout, are you? That's better left alone. It's over with."

"No, it isn't, and yes, I am."

Harry came around the table and rubbed Suzanne's shoulders. "Listen, lady. You mess with those people, they're going to hurt you a bunch. They're freak-os. Why not just scratch it off the list? Shit, if you're looking for excitement, try being a grass peddler. That'll give you gray hairs fast enough."

Suzanne smiled at her two friends and took a hand of each. "Thank you. You've been very kind. But I'm not going to be fit to live with until I get a lot of things off my mind and settled, one way or the other.

"As I understand it, the hippies have a feeling that you have to do what you have to do-your 'thing,' I guess. Well, there's a part of my 'thing' that has to be done, and I'm going to do it."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I guess that's the way it is, then."

"Yes, that's the way it is-for now."

Seal spoke. "Okay. When you get it out of your system, you know where we are, right?"

Suzanne nodded. "Right. And I'll be back." Harry spoke again. "Is there anything we can do to help you, er, get it on?"

"In fact, there is." Suzanne turned to Seal. "Do you have a sewing machine?"

"A sewing machine? Oh, yeah, why?"

"And is there a fabric store near here?"

"About five blocks. What are you into?"

Suzanne rose, smiling. "Let's go buy some things. You'll see."