David Wiltse: Bone Deep

He continued tugging at her breast with his mouth and she moaned, in her slightly accented English, "You are making me crazy. Oh, you, you." He grinned to himself without removing his mouth from his work. Sliding his hand slowly from the other breast to her legs, he toyed first with her inner thighs, teasing the tender skin until she was arching to meet his hand with her pelvis. When he caressed her tenderly between her legs she writhed and moaned even louder.

Oh, you make me crazy," she gasped. "What you are doing to me? You make me crazy."

Inge was practically bowling now, He wondered if that was the European influence. American girls of her age were usually too inhibited to enjoy themselves so obviously. They went at it, he often suspected, because they thought they were supposed to, not because they allowed themselves to truly delight in the experience.

When he entered her at last, she cried out, then buried her teeth in his shoulder. He pulled away.

"No marks," he said sternly. He had to go home to his wife after this and he couldn't come in spotted with bruises and discolorations as if he'd just been in a fight. She was suspicious enough as it was.

Inge paused slightly at the rebuke, so he withdrew himself partway and lingered there at the very opening, teasing her with it. She went into a series of gasps as if hyperventilating, and when he plunged into her she gave a shuddering sigh. He held still then and took her head in his hand.

"Oh, baby," he whispered, and felt her shake all over in response to the endearment, the clutch of her head, the fingers in her hair. It was amazing what they fell for, what simple tricks they mistook for passion, what passed for affection with them.

He heard the step in the hallway outside the door and stopped moving again, waiting to listen. Before the scratch on the door he put his hand over Inge's mouth. The scratch came again, louder, not quite a knock.

"Inge?" a woman's voice called. Inge's eyes bulged with fear but Captain Luv grinned broadly down at her. Some real fun, he thought.

"Are you all right, dear?" Inge squirmed beneath him, trying to get free, her eyes frantic. She had smuggled him into the house in the dark of night, certain that she would be safe in her own room after the mistress went to bed.

"Are you all right?" the voice insisted. "I heard you giviining, are you sick?… Are you having a nightmare?"

She's having Cap'n Luuuvvv, he thought. How about you? He withdrew from Inge and stepped unhurriedly toward the closet. He would not be caught, he knew that, he had never been caught and he never would. He was too controlled, too cool in a crisis. Even when the mania was upon him, he never got stupid. A wolf did not become frightened or flustered when trouble arose. It became even more of a wolf. Captain Luv was never more himself than when others would be panicked.

"May I come in, dear?" the woman asked, but she was already in the room, the light from the hall casting its beam on Inge, who lay, flustered, on the bed.

With the door still ajar, Captain Luv nestled in the darkness of the closet, holding his clothes, his shoes, his socks. There was no trace of him left behind except for the high flush on Inge's face. He was never careless, always meticulous in the cleanup. Like a shadow, he thought, I am come and gone, leaving nothing behind. No proof, no evidence, not even a suggestion. Neatness in the workplace, he thought. The woman stood next to the closet-he could see her through the crack in the door, the hall light haloed around her head. I know you, he thought happily.

She was a woman in her thirties, a young mother of two. Quite pretty, not that that mattered to Captain Luv; he was an indiscriminate lover, offering his services to the comely and plain alike. He could see her breasts through the skimpy material of her summer nightgown.

Perhaps he would seduce her another time, he thought, chuckling to himself. That would be good, that would be perfect. Only a mother-daughter combination would be better. But he had done that, of course. He would find an excuse to run into her next week and start a conversation. It frequently took little more than that. Just give them some attention.

The mother was trying to comfort Inge, who had inexplicably burst into tears, muttering some incomprehensible nonsense about a nightmare.

Captain Luv could imagine the mother sitting on the bed next to Inge, who would have the sheet pulled up over her nakedness. The mother would put her bare arm around Inge's uncovered shoulders, flesh to flesh, lean her pretty head against the all pair's. Her breast would be pressed against Inge's side. He thought of stepping out of the closet and presenting himself, buck naked, suggesting a threesome. He had to stifle his sniggers at the thought.

Again, he heard the footsteps before anyone else. A heavy tread in the hall, and then a man was in the room.

"She had a nightmare," the woman said.

"Uh," the man grunted. He was wearing only pajama bottoms, his arms crossed over his broad and hairy chest. Standing in the gap of the open closet door, filling the gap with his size, he ran a hand through his rumpled hair. "Pretty loud."

The man cast his eyes around the room. Looking for me, thought Captain Luv. Quite right, too. Can't have young Inge fucking while the kiddies lie asleep next door. A young husband and father should be suspicious, there was an awful lot of sex around these days. Probably not with your wife though, eh? Probably not nearly often enough with the good lady, but not to worry, Captain Luv will take care of that. Please the lady and relieve you of the duty.

The husband turned and looked directly at the closet door. Captain Luv held himself very still, but did not take his eyes off the man. Despite Inge's residual sniffling and the comforting noises of the wife, the room seemed to have gone deadly still. For Captain Luv, time seemed to have slowed down and focused itself sharply on the husband and himself.

He was aware of an itch in the back of his knee, he was aware of the way Inge's clothes felt against his skin, aware even of the vanishingly faint metallic odor of the clothes hanger an inch in front of his nose.

As he watched the husband, who seemed to be in suspended animation, Captain Luv was aware, too, of the beating of his heart. Where others' would be racing with fear and adrenaline, his had actually slowed and a kind of calm that had nothing to do with serenity had come over him. He loved danger, not with excitement but with acceptance, as if it were his natural state, as if he were a bird that had been returned to the medium of the air after a life underground. He knew exactly what to do in crisis, exactly how to behave.

The husband stepped toward the closet, each movement as clear and distinct as if illuminated by a strobe light. It seemed to Captain Luv to take forever, and he watched with amusement to see what the man would do next. Would he hurl open the closet door, thrust the clothing aside, and grab the good Captain? Would he go for a baseball bat, a knife, a gun? Would he see the Captain, recognize him, scream for the cops, make Inge's indiscretion public and ruin the Captain's career? Captain Luv continued to grin. He would get out of it, whatever happened, he would get out scotfree. He believed in himself, in his invulnerability. He knew it.

The man put his hand to the closet door and pushed it closed, sealing Captain Luv into the blackness with a gesture of obsessive orderliness.

Luv wanted to laugh and he put Inge's blouse in his mouth to keep himself quiet. Chewing the taste of cotton, he put his hand on himself and felt his erection. It was even larger than before, threatening to burst the condom with its swelling. He did it for this, he realized.

All the tiresome seduction, the slipping around, the risks, the inconvenience, the going without sleep, he did it all not for the sex.