Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

"Well, yeah."

"I didn't mind that."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Julie rolled over. She folded her hands under her head to cushion it. Her heart was racing, and her mouth was very dry. She licked her lips. Nick continued to gaze forward. "I got upset, if you really want to know, because you were staring at Karen instead of me."

He shook his head as if rejecting the idea, then turned and met her eyes. He seemed to be frowning and grinning at the same time. He looked very confused. "Are you serious?''

"I know I shouldn't blame you. I mean, you're a guy and. like you said, she's gorgeous. And that bathing suit of hers. "

"You won't. " Nick paused, shaking his head some more.

"I won't what?"

"Never mind," he muttered, and looked away.

"Come on, tell me."

"It's too embarrassing."

Julie smiled. "Embarrassing for who?"

"Me, I guess. Maybe you, too."

She braced herself up on her elbows. "Go on."

"Well. about Karen's suit. When I was looking at her? You won't believe this but I was imagining how it would look on you."

"You're kidding," Julie said. Her voice came out in a whisper. Her heart was thundering, and she was short of breath. She sat up straight to breathe better.

"I'm not kidding," Nick said. "I mean, it's nothing against your bikini. I just, uh, tried to picture how you'd look in… I told you it'd be embarrassing."

"A little bit," she admitted.

He leaned forward, put his hands on his knees, and hung his head. "I guess I'm kind of a lech."

"I guess you are," Julie said. For the first time, she noticed the sounds of distant laughter and splashing. An outcropping of rock, however, blocked her view of those in the lake. She put a hand on Nick's back. He flinched slightly, startled by her touch, and looked into her eyes. For a long time, while her hand moved slowly up and down, they gazed at each other. His eyes lingered on hers, studied every part of her face, followed the curve of her neck, glanced at her breasts, and returned quickly to her eyes as if asking permission. A slight smile trembled on Julie's lips. Twisting herself sideways, she reached out and took hold of his far shoulder. She leaned toward Nick as she turned him. She held him motionless, and he stared down, his gaze roaming from one breast to the other. He looked again into her eyes. He reached under her outstretched arm, lay his hand against her back, and eased her closer. His other arm went around her. He turned her some more. Julie felt herself start to tip. Nick's eyes widened with alarm. Then he was flat on his back, still holding her. She lay across his chest. "Woops," she said.

For a moment, he looked as if he might laugh. Then his face went serious. "Julie," he whispered.

She kissed him gently, briefly on the mouth. "We'd better get back in the lake," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said. But when Julie tried to push herself up, he held onto her. "One more?"

"One more."

This time, his hand went behind her head. His fingers thrust into her hair and he pressed her close, kissing her again and again, his lips firm and warm and urgent, as if he had needed to kiss her for a long time and feared he would never get another chance.

Julie mashed her lips against his. She wanted it never to end, but there were those in the lake who might see them. So she turned her face. Nick kissed her cheek, her ear. "We've gotta stop," she gasped.

"Okay." His hand slid out of her hair.

She raised her head. Nick's face was beaded with sweat, his eyes somewhat vague, as if he were in a daze.

"Well," she said.

"Yeah." His arms fell away from her.

She pushed herself up. Nick lay spread-eagled at her knees, his skin glossy with water and sweat, his chest heaving. His damp, clinging shorts bulged as if he'd slid a length of pipe down the front. A thick pipe. A long one. If it were any bigger, Julie thought, it would push right up under the elastic waistband and.

"Take a picture," he said. "It lasts longer."

Julie grinned down at him. Nick grinned up at her.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go swimming."

Igotta pee, Ettie. Let me go out. I won't do nothing."

She shook her head. "Any business you got, you just do it right here. You can't go out till they're gone."

"How you know they're still here?"

"Folks don't put their tents up and move on in an hour. They're staying the night. And you're staying right where you are."

"I gotta pee ," he whined.

"Use a pot."

"You're here."

"Hon, you got nothing I ain't seen before. I'm the gal used to change your diapers."

"Let me go out. Please."

Ettie pushed herself away from the gap in the wall, crawled forward to the candle between their sleeping bags, and blew it out. The cave went black. "There. Now you don't gotta be shy." She backed up quickly to block the opening. "Go on ahead, Merle."

Though her eyes were open, she could see nothing. She heard him sigh, then the soft hiss of fabric as he made his way along the sleeping bag. A match snicked and flared. Merle, kneeling at the far end of the chamber, was tossing around clothes and plastic packs of food to get at the cooking utensils. With a scrape and clatter, he pulled out a small saucepan. He waved it. "This okay?"

"Just fine," Ettie said.

He shook out his match.

"I'll dump it when you're done."

"You said we have to stay here."

"I can go out. You're the one goes around offering folks down for no good reason."

"He told me to."

"Horseshit." She heard Merle's zipper slide down. "Careful you don't miss," she said. "Hold it up good and close."

"Don't know why I can't go out," he muttered as his stream started hitting the aluminum. "I wouldn't do nothing. You just don't trust me, that's all. I'd leave 'em alone." He was talking fast, as if trying to cover the other sound. "I just wanta see 'em, that's all. What'm I gonna try with three men down there? Think I'm a fool? Don't see why we can't both go out, and you keep an eye on me if you think I'm so crazy. I just wanta see 'em, that's all." The splashing stopped.

Ettie waited until she heard his zipper, then crawled forward and lit the candle. Merle scowled at her as she picked up the pan. "I'll be right outside," she said. "You just stay put, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.

She backed away on her knees, then got to her feet and squeezed through the crevice, the back of her thick parka whispering against the rock. Outside, she crouched low to empty the pan. She set it down and stood up straight, stretching her stiff muscles.

In spite of the cold wind blowing through her dress, Ettie was glad to be out of the cave. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her parka, and leaned back to block the narrow entrance.

The night was very dark, as if a heavy blanket had been spread across the sky to hide the moon and stars. The only light came from the campfire down by the lake. It fluttered, yellow-orange, and cast a glowing aura that shimmered on the campers seated at its far side. Those on the near side of the fire were black silhouettes.

Staring at them, Ettie felt herself knot up inside. She groaned, and pushed her fists against her belly. If the blood signs had been right. Maybe she'd read them wrong. She could've missed something, reading them by match light.

They showed Merle dead. They showed her dead. Killed by some of the folks sitting down there so peacefully around the campfire.

These things are never certain, though. Even if you read the signs right, there's always a little room for doubt, so you take precautions and don't give up hope. If it weren't for that, there'd be no point in hiding away.

Always a chance, at least, that things won't turn out the way the blood signs say. A small chance.