Jon Reskind: Caesar_s revenge book II

"In a minute, honey," she answered, her back to him, and trying to keep this newly added tension from her voice. Her small, slender hands trembled as she broke the eggs into the frypan, her brain racing in a flusteration that bordered on rank jealousy. My God, she had to get a hold of herself! She was judging others by her own lurid acts… yet, he could've come to her window as before…!

Mark couldn't help but let his confused, tired eyes linger on the voluptuous rear view of Jean's loveliness that even her robe couldn't hide. Christ, he thought, that a Goddanmed vicious dog could come between them was absolutely insane! But he couldn't rid himself of the mental picture of her kneeling down slavishly on all fours, bent before the wild canine bastard fucking her from behind, and she thrusting her beautiful, naked ass back at his fucking animal-cock! She'd sucked him though… practically drawn the lining right out of his balls… but would she have done it if that weird sonofabitch hadn't been lacing her out of her mind with his huge driving prick? Shit, he couldn't think straight; he was too frigging tired. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in days… ever since…

"What about the girl who was raped?" Carol was asking Steve. "Didn't the doctor say that the sperm found inside her was definitely animal?"

"That's what Mark says. I haven't talked to him… or to anyone really, only Morgan, the Chief of Police."

"Well, isn't she his niece?" Carol pursued, catching a sidelong glance of Jean at the stove and wondering if she'd quelled any questioning thoughts her close-friend might be entertaining. Of course, she could always concoct some sort of story to cover if Jean suspected something. Certainly, she'd never believe the truth even if she told it! Who would… a wild sixty-nine orgy with a dog…!

"… She's his niece, and Doc Emory did confirm the animal sperm," Mark was saying in a near-aggravated voice. "There's no question about the authenticity of the animal, or the rape… or any of the rest of it," he added, looking up at Jean as she spatuled fried eggs onto their plates. "Is there, Jean darling…?"

Carol looked up to see her friend's eyes avoiding her handsome new husband's intent glare. Momentarily, they glanced at her, as if in sympathetic understanding. "No," Carol watched her mouth form the word. "No… there's absolutely no doubt about any of it!"

Mark welcomed the sanctity of his patrol car, the breakfast and hot coffee doing much to restore his energy. Damn, if he could just find it in his heart to forgive his young wife, Jean… but Christ, he couldn't… couldn't! He'd never forget the Goddamned wanton expression on her beautiful face when that wild sonofabitch accomplished what he'd yet been unable to do! The vicious brute had stolen her away from him right then and there, though Mark knew she'd probably deny it to her dying day! There was only one way; he had to kill the raping bastard… and even that wasn't going to make her forget him!

Irately, the uniformed deputy sheriff slammed the gears through their cycle, forcing his mind to concentrate on other immediate issues at hand. As much as he had his own personal problems, of which the wild-dog pack was playing an unbelievable part, there were other local matters to be looked to, especially the area's drug trouble. The high-school was seemingly saturated with it, and Link Morgan had done nothing concerning the three teenaged pushers Mark had picked up and turned over to the police chief. Though Mark tried never to draw obvious conclusions, Morgan's laxity in bringing the three before the county judge for indictment, plus his refusal to discuss the matter, underscored what he'd feared all along. He hated to believe it, but more and more it began to look as if Link was the supplier behind the young pushers, though to prove the matter might be next to impossible in Crescent Valley.

The police chief had the Newells on his side… good old venomous Lydia and her father, and who would buck Aaron Newell… even with him somewhere overseas. On top of that, Mark had already made an unaffordable enemy in the beautiful, auburn-haired whiplash of a daughter who had laid claim to him years back. But what else could he have done only spurn those big, lusty green-eyes? He'd come back to the valley from L.A. married and head-over-heels in love with Jean. His affair with Lydia, which had never been anything more than a lurid diet of sexual variety, was over! Hell, there'd never been any future in it from the beginning. There was no place for him in the wealthy Newell circle. It had always been his stud value, and he'd never tried to fool himself on that score. But Lydia didn't like her playthings taken from her, and she'd made that well known to him several days before. How had she so daintily put it…? "You… you sonofabitch… Goddamn you, Mark Blakely! I'll have your nuts for this! I swear I will! I'll have your nuts…!"

Mark's keen, but tired mind diligently worked as he drove, passing the high school and making the proper turns which the long, chestnut-haired Annie Purcell would take in her walk toward the granite-piled structure. He wasn't quite clear in his mind what value would come out of a chat with her, but she'd always been an amiable girl, talkative and eager, and she undoubtedly had at least been exposed to the pot-traffic at school. Anyway, he had to start somewhere, and he'd promised Steve that he'd try to get him an interview with her.

His mind was again reverting to chafingly jealous thoughts of Jean and Caesar when he saw the attractive brown-eyed teenager a half-block from her uncle's house on Cypress Street, the warm curves to her shapely young legs first catching his eye, then the miniskirt and white pullover she wore. Drawing closer, he realized that she was obviously braless… the new revolutionary thing… her full, youthful breasts doing an arousing sashay to her every bouncing step. Christ, school had changed since his day. He swallowed, wondering if maybe he shouldn't wait…

She saw him and waved. Mark smiled back, responsively easing the sheriff's car to the curb and stopping, making no motions toward her, yet she swerved from the sidewalk to come and talk with him.

"Hi, Mark… I-I mean Mr. Blakely… going toward school?" she greeted and asked in one breath, her young white teeth glistening with her smile.

"Y-Yes… as a matter of fact, I am," he stammered, her accidental use of his first name surprising him. In the past, it had always been Mr. Blakely. "Come on, I'll drive you… I wanted to talk to you anyway," he added with a little smile of his own. "Ooohhh…?" he heard her pleasant girlish voice questioningly fade as she unhesitantly circled the car, that too astonishing him. They had never been that close, though his uniform would probably reassure her. He opened the door for her and she climbed in, making none of the usual demure efforts toward covering her youthfully rounded thighs with the brevity of her mini-skirt. "It's not very often that I get picked up by the handsomest man in town," she said with a light, flirtish air, the pleasing scent of fragrant soap reaching him.

Mark uncontrollably grinned as he glided the automobile back into motion, her less than naive coquettishness giving him another start that he hadn't been prepared for. He'd naturally had some experience with these teenaged girls in the course of his official capacity, but he doubted that he'd ever quite get with their casual disregard for the teasingly provocative sexiness they exuded. It was difficult to believe they were unaware of their ripened young charms, though he'd never thought of Annie along those lines, and it suddenly occurred to him that he was either getting old, or blind… or was it that she'd abruptly grown up when he wasn't looking…?