Richard Laymon - Flesh

He thought about Dana and felt guilty. I’m doing it for you, he told her.

For me, right, he could almost hear her say. You’re turned on, you bastard.

So who’s going to tell on me? he asked himself. Dana might even be dead.

Don’t think that. Jesus.

A car pulled into the restaurant’s driveway, so they parted. Holding Celia’s hand, Jason led her to the sidewalk. “Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked.

“Sure thing.”

“I know a nice, secluded place.”

“The secludeder, the better,” she said, bumped his side, staggered, turned her ankle and said, “Ow! Shit. Hang on.” She kicked off her high heels. Keeping her knees straight, she bent at the waist to pick up her shoes. Jason stared at the way the gown clung to her buttocks. Thoughts of Dana prevented him from stroking her. Celia straightened up, holding her shoes. “Tough enough, walking in these things if you’re sober.”

“You mean you’re not sober?”

“Not entirely,” she said, speaking the words slowly and precisely. “Nor am I entirely polluted.” She made a lopsided grin. “Are you entirely polluted?”

“I am un peu polluted.”

They arrived at his car. He opened the passenger door, helped Celia in, then went around to his side. The overhead light came on when he opened the door. Celia’s left arm was hooked over the seat back, drawing her dress taut across her breast. Her nipple made the glossy fabric jut. Her left leg had found its way through the gown’s slitted side. Except for a flesh-colored elastic band wrapping the knee, it was bare to her hip. The fabric draped her inner thigh. I’ll get a nice shot, Jason thought, if that little bit of cloth moves slightly farther to the right.

Celia grinned as if she knew what he was thinking. “Are you getting in, or what?”

“Yeah.” He sat down behind the steering wheel and pulled the door shut. The light went off. He fumbled the key into the ignition and started the car.

Celia’s hand found the back of his neck, rubbed gently. “You tense?” she asked.

“A little, I guess.” He pulled away from the curb.

“How come?” she asked, massaging his neck muscles. “You aren’t nervous about me, are you?”

“I think it’s excitement more than nerves,” he said.

“Mmmm.”

But it’s nerves, too, he thought. Christ. It hadn’t gone the way he’d planned. He’d planned to get her smashed, and that part of it had worked fine; she was plenty loaded. But he hadn’t planned on feeling anything. He was to play a role in the melodrama cooked up by Roland to save Dana. That’s all. Act a part. Act interested and affectionate while he plied her with fine food and plenty of booze until she was plastered mindless and totally helpless.

She’s just the way I want her, he told himself.

But I’m not.

It had started to go wrong the moment he saw her and thought, Dana never looked this good. Feeling like a traitor, he had tried to push the thought out of his mind. All through the evening, however, he compared the two and found Dana the loser. Celia was far more beautiful than Dana. She seemed to listen, to care about what he said. She wasn’t conceited. She was wittier than Dana, sometimes breaking him up, but even her sharpest remarks seemed good-humored and without the malice that made Dana’s sarcasm a little ugly. She had a warmth, a softness, that was totally alien to the other girl.

While they ate, he had found himself more and more attracted to Celia. And he felt poisoned by guilt. He was betraying Celia by using her this way; he was betraying Dana by wanting to trade her for Celia.

“That light’s…”

Red, he thought. But it was too late to stop, so he sped on through the intersection.

Celia’s hand went away from his neck. “You’d better concentrate on your driving,” she said. “If you get stopped in your condition…”

“Yeah.” For the next block, he watched the rearview.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Something on your mind?”

“You.”

“Me. I know, you’re overwhelmed by my cheauty and barm.”

Jason smiled. “Right, your cheauty and barm.”

“And dizzy with anticipation.”

“You’re very perceptive.”

“But what is it, really? I mean, has it got something to do with Dana?”

Jason felt a jump inside his chest.

“You two were going at it pretty hot and heavy, and suddenly she’s out of the picture and I’m in. Do you want to talk aboud…about it? I mean, this isn’t some kind of ploy to get back at her or make her jealous or something, is it?”

A ploy, all right.

He was thankful for the darkness hiding his hot face which was probably scarlet.

“It’s not that at all,” he said. “We broke up, but she didn’t dump me. I dumped her. I just couldn’t stand her any longer, she’s such a bitch. I don’t know what I ever saw in her in the first place.”

Sorry Dana, he thought.

Eat shit, he imagined her snapping. You meant every word of it. I was never anything to you but snatch. But fair’s fair, you were nothing to me but a hard cock.

He turned onto Latham Road.

“I finally realized,” he said, “that I was missing a lot. I mean, a relationship needs to be more than screwing.”

“Two entirely different things,” Celia said.

“I don’t know. I want to at least like the person I’m with, and it was getting so I didn’t even want to be around her. She was hard and crass and mean…not like you. You’re really a sweet person.”

“Yeah, I’m an angel.”

“Compared to her, you are.” So why am I taking you out there? I don’t owe Dana a damn thing. Besides, she might already be dead (I almost hope…No!) and I shouldn’t be talking about her like this, thinking about her like this—even though it’s the truth.

I’ve got to do what I can for her. I owe her that much.

It’s a stupid plan, anyway. It’ll never work.

So if nothing happens, I take Celia home and she never has to know she was bait.

And if it works, fat chance, nobody gets hurt anyway. We nail the guy, he takes us to Dana.

Takes us to her body, hanging naked from a rafter, mutilated and dead.

But nothing will happen to Celia, either way.

Take her someplace else. Forget the whole thing. A motel, maybe. That’d be nice. Don’t do this to her.

“Just up ahead,” Celia said, “is where that guy tried to run me down.”

“Do you want a look?”

She shook her head. “I don’t even like being this close. My bike’s still there. I haven’ even gone back for it.”

“Should we pick it up? We could put it in the backseat.” Say yes, he thought. We’ll get the bike, we’ll forget about the Oakwood.

“Iss too messed up. Even if it could be repaired, I wouldn’t want it anyway. I’ll ged a new one if I ever want to go riding again.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Jason slowed down, flicked the arm of the turn signal, and swung the car onto the narrow road leading to the Oakwood Inn. He looked at Celia. She was staring at him.

“Where’re we going?” she whispered.

“There’s a parking lot. It’ll be good and deserted.”

“This’s where those people got killed Thursday night.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I read about it. If you’d rather go someplace else…”

“No.” That was all she said. She didn’t explain.

“I think we won’t have to worry about being disturbed,” Jason said. “Nobody’ll come out to a place like this after what happened.”

“Maybe for the thrill.”

The road flared out. Jason steered to the right. He drove in a circle, watching his head beams sweep around the parking lot. There were no other cars. The beams met a corner of the restaurant and moved across its dark front, flashing off the windows. When they lit the door, he stopped.