Alex Ayers - The soldier_s wife

"No, we can't just forget them," Sybil said smoothly.

"We have to protect ourselves. There's no telling what they might say about us if the police ever got to them."

"What do you suggest," Bob said hoarsely, running his hand down between her legs and cupping Sybil's vagina.

She cringed at his touch. Bob wasn't like Allen. He was like a little boy, waiting, hoping that she would let him have some. Watching. Waiting. Allen was a man. He was rough and bitter, violent. He could please her by himself. She wouldn't have to go out of the house to seek a man to satisfy her, or a woman to lull her in the interim.

"One more meeting. We'll have one more meeting. I'll ask them to come up and once they're here, I'll have Largo come over and snap them out of it."

Bob's hand stopped its manipulations. He sat up and looked at her.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sybil."

"We have to," she said, pulling his head back down against her chest and opening her blouse so he could suck on her nipple. "Believe me, Bob. I know what I'm doing. It will be the last time. We'll rid ourselves of them and protect our interests at the same time."

"All right," he said, letting the nipple fall from between his teeth. "I'll call Largo tomorrow."

"No. You don't need to. I thought this whole scheme up. I'll call him."

"All right," Bob mewed, slipping his hand down the front of her capris and feeling the damp lips of her vagina. "All right."

Sybil smiled as she wriggled her hips and helped Bob pull her clothes off. The smile preyed on her lips as she leaned back on the couch, her legs forked, and pushed her husband's head down to prepare her snatch. She felt his tongue licking at her slot, nibbling at her clitoris, sucking at the hole like a small boy eating a slice of wet, dripping watermelon. It was like the final feast before the slaughter, she thought, wrapping her long, lithe legs around his head and squeezing. It was his last taste of her flesh before…

Allen put the phone down and laughed his way into the bedroom. Gwen was still spread-eagled on the bed, her hair matted and sticking against her face from the wine, blue splotches of the cleanser pooled around her breasts. For the past two days she had been drifting in and out of consciousness, each time Allen acting more insane and torturing her with lighted cigarettes and forks, jabbing the burning tips of the cigarettes against her nipples and poking at her tongue and clitoris with the fork until she nearly had an orgasm. But each time she reached her peak, he would stop and let her lie there begging him to finish her, to let her complete the burning desire ready to explode.

"Poor, baby," Allen said, rubbing her flesh with a warm wash-rag. "Has daddy been mean to his baby."

He pressed the cool cloth against her breasts and "V". The feeling was soothing and Gwen looked at him suspiciously, wondering what he was up to.

"Allen?"

"I'm not going to hurt you any more," he said, wiping at her face with the cloth. "I've been a bad boy. Sybil just called and told me to stop being mean to you. She wants us to come up and love them. She said she would make you well."

His buckling voice was steady and his jaw relaxed as he looked at her sympathetically.

"She wants us to come up tonight. Like old times. I'm going to untie you now and let you get cleaned up. You will be nice, won't you? You won't run away or scream?"

He untied the bonds. Gwen put her arms around his neck and cried, feeling her numb hands begin to tingle as the blood rushed back into them.

"Oh, Allen. What's happened to us? What's the matter?"

"Everything is going to be all right, baby," he said, rubbing his hands up her marred back. "Believe me, everything is going to be all right."

"I'm scared, Allen. I'm terribly scared," Gwen said, biting her lip and hugging him close.

"Don't be scared, dear. Sybil and Bob love us. Sybil told me so over the phone. She said we should love her. And we should be happy."

"I want to be happy, I want to," Gwen answered, feeling a chill up her spine as Allen's cold hands pressed against her back. "I want to be happy."

Bob forced a smile and tried to sound affable when he met Allen at the door.

"Hello, come in."

Gwen, her battered frame hunkered under a knee-length raincoat, smiled and followed her husband inside, nodding hello to Bob and hurrying to sit down.

"Say, I'm sorry about losing my temper last weekend. Had a terrible week, Allen. You know how those things go."

"Yeah," Allen said, a bland smile on his face. "We all have our ups and downs."

"Sit down, Sybil will be out in a minute. She's fixing her hair. Want a drink?"

"Yeah. How about you, Gwen?"

"No, thank you."

Bob went to the bar and Allen stood, sucking in deep breaths of air and waiting. He could feel the tension in the air, the blood rushing through his veins, his muscles quivering in anticipation. A hollow feeling coursed through him and he thought of crouching inside the helicopter, ready to leap to the ground as it whirred down into the landing zone.

Gwen picked at her fingers and looked around the room. It seemed foreign to her, unreal. She had expected the warm comfort of home when she walked in the door. She expected things to be as they had in the past, a soothing love-rife warmth to wrap her mind in its lulling arms and wash away the fear and anticipation she had felt the last week with Allen. But it was different. It was cold and frightening.

"You look gloomy." Bob handed the drink to Allen and sat next to Gwen. "What's the matter, don't you love us any more?"

He laughed, alone, looking at Gwen's jumpy eyes.

She smiled, trying to feel the experience she had thrived on with them for such a long time.

"Just tired. Very tired."

"We'll fix that up," Bob said gleefully. "Remember that hypnotist, Largo? We've invited him over. We're going to cheer you up." He reached out and patted Gwen's leg.

A slow, crawling clamminess inched up her back as Bob's hand touched her. The feeling startled her and her eyes grew wide, her mind puzzled. It wasn't supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be good, warm, exciting.

"Here she is."

Sybil stepped into the room, her hands folded behind her, her ever-present cat-and-mouse grin stretched thin across her sensual face. Her eyes glinted as she raised the revolver up and pointed it at Bob.

"Hello everyone."

Bob laughed and set his drink down. "Look at Sybil, always playing around." He rose and stepped toward her. A loud ratcheting click resonated through the silent room as she pulled the revolver's hammer back.

"I'm not joking, Bob," she said coolly. "It's loaded and if you don't do as I say, I'll kill you right here."

"Come on, Sybil, don't play around." Bob's voice was stern, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Allen who moved up behind him.

"Grab him, Allen."

Allen quickly slipped his arms behind Bob and wrestled him to the floor with a full nelson.

"Sybil?"

She kicked out at him, driving her pointed shoe into his chin.

"You sniveling bastard," Sybil snarled. "Look at you. You're half a man. Living off me like a leech, afraid to hit me, afraid to share the pain of love."

Allen lifted him to his knees and Sybil drove her foot into his stomach. Bob heaved over and gagged.

"Don't move, bitch." Sybil swung the gun toward Gwen, who was inching away from the scene. "Or I'll put a bullet through that lovely chest of yours."

Gwen froze, unable to comprehend the situation.

"Come here, Gwen, dear," Sybil said, waving the gun in a circle.

Slowly, Gwen walked toward her.

"You see, dear, you aren't woman enough for your husband, and my husband isn't man enough for me. So we figure that you two ought to make a very loving pair." She licked her lips and looked down at Bob's aghast face.