‘Nothing.’

  ‘But you’re all messed up.’

  ‘Most of it won’t show when my clothes are on. If they notice anything, I’ll say I crashed my bike.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Cross your heart and hope to die?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Cross mine.’ She moved forward and down so her chest was above his mouth. ‘Use your tongue.’

  He licked an X on the skin of her chest, tasting sweat and blood, feeling the furrows of scratches.

  ‘Hope to die?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay then.’ She eased herself down and backward and Mark felt himself slide in. She was warm in there. Warm and slippery and snug.

  He knew the beast had been in before him, plundering her, flooding her. He’d heard crude guys talk about ‘sloppy seconds’ and he guessed that was what he was getting but he didn’t mind very much.

  Didn’t mind at all, come to think of it.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Near dawn, wearing what remained of their clothes, they made their way down the hillside. They stayed just outside the back fence and followed it. Alison could hardly walk. Mark held her. Sometimes, he picked her up and carried her for a while.

  They came out of the field near some homes. Except for a few porch lights, nearly all the houses were dark.

  They saw a cat. Once, a car went by a block away and they hid behind a tree. They saw no people anywhere. Only each other.

  Soon, they arrived at Alison’s house. All the windows were dark. So was the porch.

  ‘I left the back door unlocked,’ she whispered.

  They went around the house. On the stoop outside the back door, Alison took off Mark’s windbreaker and gave it back to him. Her white shirt was tattered, one sleeve missing and her right breast poking out through a split. Her legs were bare all the way down to her white socks.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ Mark whispered.

  ‘Pretty sure.’

  He put on his windbreaker and zipped it up.

  ‘Nice and warm?’ Alison asked.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’m freezing.’

  ‘You’d better go inside.’

  ‘Not yet.’ She took his hand and placed it on her naked breast. ‘That’s better.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She held his hand there and whispered, ‘I had a great time tonight, Mark.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Well . . . it had its ups and downs.’

  ‘Jeez.’

  She laughed softly, winced, then stared through the darkness at him. ‘It was great.’

  He felt goosebumps crawl up his body, but wasn’t sure why.

  ‘We’ll have to do it again sometime,’ she said.

  ‘You mean . . .?’

  ‘Go out together. You know.’ She pressed his hand more tightly against her breast. ‘You want to, don’t you?’

  ‘My God. Sure I do. Of course.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  Then Mark laughed softly and whispered, ‘No conditions next time, right?’

  ‘Only one.’

 


 

  Richard Laymon, The Complete Beast House Chronicles

 


 

 
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