Wrath White - The Resurrectionist

“Oh, thanks. That makes me feel better.”

Josh brushed the hair from her face and kissed her on the lips. It was a long, deep kiss, sucking her tongue into his mouth, nibbling and sucking her bottom lip. Sarah had always loved the way he kissed her. Even after ten years of marriage it still made her knees weak.

“You want to go upstairs?” Sarah asked breathlessly.

“No. I want to fuck you right here on the floor.”

Now it was Sarah’s turn to blush.

Dale watched the couple walk back across the street. His eyes crept down to the woman’s ass as if they had a will of their own. It was small but round and tight. She was beautiful. He had seen her standing in the window earlier. He couldn’t really make out her features but he knew someone was there and now he knew that it had been her. She hadn’t been wearing a bra when she met him. He could see her nipples poking through the fabric of her shirt. She had a lovely face too. Big doelike eyes, slightly slanted as if she had some Asian blood in her somewhere. She had high cheekbones and full lips. Her hair was shoulder length, a deep, lush black, with wild loose curls. Dale thought she looked more like a movie star than a doctor of sociology or social science or whatever it was she was studying. She looked a lot like his mother.

Her husband had said that she didn’t work, but that he did. That would leave Dale and his new neighbor plenty of time to get acquainted. But Dale wasn’t sure he could wait for the guy to go to work on Monday. Luckily he didn’t have to. It didn’t matter how big the guy was if he didn’t know it was coming. And Dale was going to make sure that neither of them knew what hit them. An erection was already tenting the front of his jeans.

Dale spent the rest of the day organizing his things in his new home. The movers had all gone and boxes sat upon boxes in every room of the house. The house was small, only 1,300 square feet. But it was perfect for him. It had two bedrooms, two baths, and a den with a window that looked out onto the street. His neighbor had been right. The old couple who had owned the house previously had taken great care of the place. For such a small place they had packed it with expensive upgrades. They must have spent almost as much upgrading the place as they had on the house itself. They must have thought this would be their last house, the house they would die in. Then they had lost most of their retirement in the stock market and their interest-only loan had adjusted and they’d been forced into foreclosure. Dale had picked up the house for half of what it had been worth a year ago.

The appliances in the kitchen were stainless steel, the cabinets were cherry wood with brushed nickel handles and glass fronts. Dale thought he would have to get better dinnerware. His dishes were mismatched and half of them were stained or chipped. Not that he ever entertained but he still liked his place to look good just in case, and seeing his old cheap dinner plates through the glass cabinet doors made the house look cheaper. It made it look like he didn’t really belong in such a nice place.

The knobs and hinges on all the doors in the house were also brushed nickel, like the handles on the cabinets. There were faux wood blinds, which matched the cabinets, on all the windows. The floors in the kitchen, living room, hallway, and both bathrooms were covered in twenty-by-twenty-inch travertine, white with orange, black, and brown veins running through it. The wood floor in the den was the same cherry color as the cabinets and shutters. The only things Dale didn’t like were the white walls. With all the other upgrades you would have thought they would have painted the walls a different color, maybe an accent wall or two or a faux finish. He would have to take care of that later.

Dale walked into the den and began unpacking his computer. He moved his desk over by the window so he could look out at the house across the street while he was working. He began unpacking his printer, his scanner. He plugged in his digital webcam and the speaker on his computer and then began unpacking all of his books.

It took him almost two hours but Dale managed to unpack, organize, and decorate his den. His bookcases were filled with books on Web design, true crime, and detective thrillers, along with crime-scene investigation and police procedure and old erotic novels from Anais Nin, Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch, Henry Miller, and de Sade. In several boxes that remained unopened were black-market DVDs and old VHS tapes of vintage pornography, including S-and-M movies from the eighties and nineties and some more modern torture films.

His computer was up and working. A picture of his mom and dad hung on the wall opposite the window. He had even hung up a couple of movie posters from two of his favorite movies, Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs . Dale loved Quentin Tarantino movies. Tarantino was his favorite director.

Dale had posters of several Russ Meyers films still rolled up that he was planning to hang in his bedroom. That would be his next project. The movers hadn’t even put his bed together and his mattress and box spring were leaning against the door to the master bathroom. At this rate, he wouldn’t be done until well after dark. That would just barely leave him time for dinner and a brief nap before it was time to visit the new neighbors.

Sarah watched Josh rinse the dishes and stack them in the dishwasher while she curled up on the couch waiting for Real Time with Bill Maher to start. Josh had made dinner tonight and she had to admit that it wasn’t half bad. He’d found a recipe for enchiladas in one of those little recipe books you picked up at the supermarket and had baked her some, using tortillas, Monterey Jack cheese, fire-roasted red chilies, cream-of-mushroom soup, and Old El Paso green enchilada sauce. It was actually pretty good and Sarah had eaten half the pan. She’d have to do a long run tomorrow or else she’d be packing on the pounds. She knew Josh would love her even if she got fat.

“Would you still love me if I gained a bunch of weight?” It didn’t hurt to ask.

“When you marry a woman, you always have to assume that she’s gonna gain at least thirty or forty pounds. You’ve still got like twenty pounds to go.”

“What? I’m still the same size I was when you met me.”

“I don’t know about that. You’ve been eating a lot of ice cream lately.”

“You’re a pig. You know that don’t you? A male-chauvinist pig.”

“That’s just how you like me.”

“Now you’ve got me thinking about ice cream. Why don’t you run to the store and get us some?”

“Why don’t you? I cooked dinner. Remember?”

Sarah hugged the afghan wrapped around her.

“But I’m so comfy.”

“You’re the one who wants ice cream. I’m just the guy who deserves it.”

“You’re such a jerk. I can’t believe you’re trying to make me feel guilty.”

“Guilty for what? For not getting ice cream for your poor tired hubby after he’s worked hard all week and then slaved over a hot stove all day to make you a nice meal? I did cook you breakfast and dinner.”

“Well, I made lunch and you burned the pancakes this morning, so we’re even. But the enchiladas were pretty good. I guess that’s worth a trip to the grocery store.”

“Wait until I finish with the dishes. I’ll go with you.”

“That’s a good hubby.”

“Don’t push it, woman.”

Josh and Sarah were arm in arm, looking like new love as they walked out of the house and climbed into their SUV. When they drove off, they glanced only casually at the house across the street. There was a light on in the den and Sarah thought she could make out the silhouette of the neighbor’s head through the closed blinds.