Lawrence Block - The Girl With the Deep Blue Eyes

“She does now.”

“She didn’t but now she does? Thanks to kindly old Doctor Miller?”

He told her about the phone sex, the tranny fantasy. “Yesterday,” he said, “we had some more phone sex. But without the phone.”

“Tell me about the couple.”

“What couple? Oh, those two time-wasters with no idea what they wanted? There’s nothing to tell.”

“Make something up.”

“What do you mean? They weren’t hot enough to have a fantasy about.”

“So make them hotter. Make her beautiful, make him handsome.”

“And?”

“You’re showing this house, and they put the moves on you.”

“Not those two, but okay, I get it. Give me a minute, let me think, and how am I supposed to think with you inside me? Oh, Jesus. Well, you’re right, she’s a beauty, in a sort of unformed girlish kind of way. And he’s not handsome, in fact you’d have to say he was ugly, but like a dangerous bad guy in a movie, you know? Very sexy, you’re scared of him but there’s something about him that makes you want to fuck him.”

“And?”

“And right away I got a little bit of a tingle from the way he looked, and the way he was looking at me. And I got the feeling he wanted to make a move, but how could he with his wife there?

“So I’m showing them this palatial condo, top floor with a storybook view, and I know it’s out of their price range but I take them there anyway, and he goes to use the bathroom, and the wife comes up and slips her arm around my waist, and in the most matter-of-fact way she says, ‘You know, Barb, my husband would totally love to fuck you.’ ”

“So the move came from her.”

“And I swear I never saw it coming! There she is with her hand on my hip, and she moves it so she’s stroking my ass, real gently, yes, like you’re doing now, that’s right—”

“And?”

“And she says, ‘And I’d like to watch him, I’d like to see his big hard cock going in and out of you, and after he fills you full of cum I’ll get down there and clean you up and make you come all over again.’ ”

“You must have been excited.”

“Crazy excited, and scared at the same time, because I never did anything like this, I was never with a woman and certainly never with a couple and — oh, I wish you would fuck me hard, but you’re just going to keep it inside me, aren’t you, and not move at all, and, and—”

“Did they do what she said?”

“He fucked me really hard. Held my legs up over my head so he could get in really deep, and it hurt me some but I was too hot to care. And she was kissing me all over my face and pinching my nipples, pinching them really hard, and I generally don’t like that, but this time it seemed right. And talking to me while she’s kissing me, all this breathy love talk, ‘Oh, you’re so pretty, you’re so sweet.’ And his cock, hammering away at me, and I came so hard I just about blacked out.

“And the next thing I knew, she had her face between my legs and she was licking my pussy and I knew I wasn’t going to respond because I’d just come so hard. But I thought, well, pay attention, because this is a new experience for you and you might as well see what it’s like. And it was different, you know, a woman’s mouth is different, and knowing it’s a woman doing it, that makes it different, too. And before I knew it I was excited all over again, and not just a little excited but really crazy hot, and I started to come, and she kept eating me and I just kept coming.

“And I’m lying there, and he’s holding my head, turning it so my face is right in front of her pussy. And he’s like, ‘Time to return the favor, don’t you think?’ And she’s all, ‘No, Barb, only if you want to,’ and it hits me that I have to taste her, that I’ll die if I don’t get my mouth on her. And it’s not like I don’t know what girls taste like, I’ve touched myself and sucked my finger a million times, but now I’m licking her and it’s amazing, and then I feel him behind me, and he’s fucking me while I’m eating out his beautiful wife, and—”

“And it never happened,” Lisa said. “She just made it up.”

“Right.”

“I’d say Scheherazade gets to live another night. And you were doing her while she was telling you the story.”

“Uh-huh. It’s not word for word, but it’s as close as I could come without taping her.”

“That might be interesting.”

“What, taping her?”

“Be easy enough, right there in your own house. Then we could actually hear her telling the story. Or is it better with you recounting it to me? Hmmm.”

“Hmmm indeed.”

“And you were inside her while she was talking? Like you’re inside me now?”

“Well, I was in her—”

“Ass, right. Barb’s best feature. Do you want to be in my ass? So we can replicate the experience?”

“I don’t want to move from where I am.”

“Then stay right where you are. I could come like this. Could you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I don’t think I want to, not right now. Is that weird?”

“I feel the same way.”

“Like coming is nice, but it’s sort of beside the point. You know what I like about our love nest?”

“The smell of stale cigarette smoke.”

“Which is something you generally miss out on in a non-smoking room. Though right now the smell of sex is doing a good job of canceling it out. No, what I was going to say is that I’m glad the place is tacky.”

“So you can get to feel lowdown and dirty?”

“No,” she said. “I could feel like that in a palace. No, but imagine if we had a really nice place. And we could, you know. There are a million condos for rent, time shares people can’t give away, and how hard could it be to arrange everything through a third party and keep it all nicely anonymous? We could lie on percale sheets while we were grooving on your girlfriend’s naughty stories.”

“Now I’m beginning to regret bringing you to a dump like this.”

“No, that’s the whole point. If we had a place like that we could stay there forever.”

He thought about it. “Oh,” he said.

“Do you see what I mean? It would be comfortable. I don’t want us to be comfortable.”

“I get it,” he said. “And you’re right. And here’s something to keep you from getting too comfortable.”

“Am I gonna like this?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I took a ride over to Court House Square earlier today. I went and had a talk with your husband, George.”

It was something he’d thought of doing, he told her, but it was the conversation with the sheriff that had changed the thought to action. He had to get more of a sense of the man than you could get by stalking him online. And it made sense to establish himself in George’s eyes, so that when he turned up down the line he was already a known factor, that New York cop scraping by doing odd jobs for lawyers and insurance agents. Miller, his name was, a forgettable name with a couple of forgettable initials to keep it company, and he was certainly nobody to take seriously, nobody to worry about.

There might be some money, he’d told the man. If you’re the right Otterbein.

Which, of course, George had proved not to be.

The legend Doak spun was simple enough. A childless widower in Scottsbluff, Nebraska, had died at an advanced age. The old gentleman, one Elmer Otterbein, had never left the family farm, but he’d worked hard and saved himself rich. Well, seven figures worth of rich. He’d died intestate with a few million in savings and government bonds and acreage worth about as much. There was, in short, enough money involved to spend a small fraction of it looking for legitimate heirs, before it disappeared into the coffers of the great state of Nebraska.