Thomas Perry - Dead Aim

She sat down, then swung her legs up, lay beside him, put her hands behind her head, knitting the fingers as he had, and stared up at the smoke detector on the ceiling. “I guess all we can do now is wait.”

“Guess so,” he said.

“Any ideas about how we could pass the time?”

She caught a swift movement as he turned his head toward her abruptly, so she turned hers more slowly and looked into his blue eyes. She saw that they had suddenly become inquisitive. She turned her body toward him, crooked her elbow, and leaned her head on her right hand. She gave him a mischievous smile.

He rolled, almost a lunge toward her that startled her a little, and put her on her back. He hovered above her as he kissed her, pressing his mouth against hers too heavily. His tongue pried open her lips and came inside, searching, and then his right hand was groping, moving to her left breast. He was eager, she told herself: passionate, not rough. She began to need to stop for a second, because it was hard to breathe, but he didn’t stop for that. She turned her head to break off the kiss, and took three deep breaths, and then she was feeling better. It was easier now, nice, really. He was kissing her neck, and he didn’t have the weight of his upper body on hers anymore.

Then he was undressing her, but so quickly that she was afraid he was going to rip her top, or maybe tear the zipper of the leather pants. “Wait,” she whispered. “Let me.”

At first there was an instant when she was not sure that he would, but his hands stopped. She sat up, took off the top, and she could see the blue eyes staring in appreciation. She was beautiful, and she was glad that he knew it. She swung her legs off the bed and laid the top on the chair, then took off the leather pants. She left her underpants on and walked to the counter by the television, dug into a pocket of the purse, and found the condom. She stepped to the bed, holding it up and smiling.

He was beside the bed, quickly stripping off his clothes. As soon as he was naked, he stepped closer and pulled her to him. He kissed her and then pushed her onto the bed, and continued what he had been doing before.

“Here,” she said after a few minutes. She pushed the condom into his hand.

He tugged her panties off. He obviously had interpreted her gesture as a signal that she was ready to accept him, but she noticed he had tossed the condom aside.

“Aren’t you going to use it?”

He shook his head. “Don’t like them.”

“But we should. Would you please do it anyway?”

He stopped and held her at arm’s length, staring into her eyes. “What? Do you have AIDS or something?”

“No,” she snapped. “Do you?”

“What do you have, then?”

“Nothing!” she said angrily. “It’s just a normal precaution.”

He let go of her, then turned to pick up the condom, and sighed heavily as he tore the wrapper off and put it on. “There. You happy?”

She quickly made a decision. She lay back on the bed. She wriggled a bit to get closer. “Yes,” she said. “Very happy.”

She wanted it to be true, but something had turned sour. He had seemed a bit too rough and hurried before, but now he was distant, uncaring. He was very strong, and he made sudden, almost violent movements, grasping her too tightly and then thrusting too hard. She said, “Wait, be a little more gentle.”

“If you’d relax, you’d enjoy it.”

“Please.”

He seemed to get more quick, more violent, ignoring her voice. She decided that what he had said might actually help if she could do it, and it was all she could do, so she tried to relax all her muscles, to offer no resistance. She only had to endure it for a few more minutes, and it was over. He disengaged himself from her, and she kept still, staring at the ceiling. He lay beside her for a few seconds, then got up, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.

Kira wanted to cry, but she knew she shouldn’t, or everything would be lost. A minute later, he came out again. Maybe he had been just so filled with lust, so sexually hungry for her, that he had needed to do it that way. Maybe that part was over now, and they would be closer to each other than before, and he would be kinder and in less of a hurry. She had proved she was not just a tease, getting him aroused and then not letting him find release. Maybe he had even been a little bit suspicious of her before, and resentful in advance, and now he would be okay. She cleared her throat and found her voice. “Come back and lie down with me.”

He looked at her. He didn’t smile, but he went back to the bed and lay there obediently.

She did not feel as though anything she tried was working, but she had decided that the only way was to advance, not retreat. “That was really nice. Thanks.”

He looked at her again, more curious than warm. Then he seemed to remember something. Before he said it, she knew what it meant. “We’d better see if he’s back.” He got up and rapidly pulled his clothes on.

She had known it would be something that required him to go away from her for a bit. That way, before he saw her again she would be dressed, and he could pretend nothing had ever happened. She watched him put on the jacket with the gun in it and slip outside.

Kira remained on the bed and considered. Ordinarily, a girl would be happy to acquiesce in the deception, dress while he was out, and by the time he got back, have her makeup fixed and be demurely brushing her hair. A girl would wait for him to speak before she would say anything about having had sex, and maybe he would never mention it again, just assume that the next time he wanted sex, she would agree. Maybe they would part, and never speak again about anything.

Kira sat up. She was proud of the way her body looked in the big mirror across from the foot of the bed. She instinctively did not want to let this incident be over, just out of some misplaced modesty or a fear of awkwardness. Tim would realize in a minute that room 1503 was empty. She was positive that Mallon could not have come back onto this floor and gone into his room without her hearing it.

She was beginning to feel frustrated about Tim. He was attractive, he was strong, he was a person who should be able to understand her, a person she didn’t need to lie to. She looked into the mirror again and fluffed her long blond hair. This should have worked better. He should be in here with her now, seeing what she saw, and marveling at his good luck.

Kira pulled the halter top on over her head, brushed her hair a few times, angrily, and then put the last touches to her makeup. She had given Tim a half hour, but he still had not come back to the room. She was going to have to find him. She made sure her bag was packed and locked, took her purse, then went out and closed the door behind her.

She stopped at the door of 1503 and listened for a moment, but then she heard the ding of the elevator bell, announcing that it had arrived. She quickly moved away from 1503 and took the final fifteen feet to the elevator doors so she would be there, face-to-face with Tim when the door opened. She had time for an instant’s regret that she had not brought her overnight bag. The sight of her standing there with her bag-or maybe just brushing past him into the elevator without speaking-would have forced him to think quickly: if he wanted her, he would have to acknowledge it and make her know it, or she would be gone. She had not brought the bag, so she would have to do without it. She stood a pace back from the door, her head up and her shoulders back, and an expression in her eyes that would freeze a bird in flight.

The door slid open: no Tim. Instead, there were two men in their thirties who looked to her like businessmen. She lowered her eyes to avoid theirs and waited for them to move past, and as they did, she could detect the smell of liquor. They must have been sitting in the bar having a few drinks before dinner. She stepped into the elevator and pressed and held the “Close Door” button, pushed P2, the lowest button in the row, and felt the elevator begin to sink.