Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

He turned, leaving behind the traffic of Ventura Boulevard. Except for occasional streetlamps, the road was dark. Lights shone in the windows of houses, but Julie saw nobody wandering about. Dark, empty cars sat in driveways and lined the curbs. At a Y in the road, Julie suggested they go left. The road narrowed as it climbed into the hills. There were fewer streetlights, fewer houses. As headlights appeared on the curve ahead, Nick swung in behind a parked Toyota to make room. A Mercedes eased by, and he pulled out again. He drove forward, slowing at each bend.

Julie spotted a steep lane to the left. "Why don't we try that one?"

"It's not a through street," Nick told her.

She nodded as she read the sign. "That's okay."

"Hope you don't get us lost."

"All we've gotta do is point the car downhill."

"You're the navigator." He turned, and started up the grade. There were no streetlights. They passed a few driveways on the right, apparently leading to houses nestled unseen on the wooded slopes above the road. To the left, beyond the guardrails, the hillside dropped away. The lights of scattered houses were visible across the ravine.

"This is nice," Julie said. "Why don't you park along here someplace so we can enjoy the view?"

"Okay," he said in a whisper she could barely hear. A few moments later, he eased the car to the right. The right-side tires crunched over the ground. The branches of a bush on the slope scratched against Julie's window. Nick killed the headlights. He turned off the engine, and a heavy silence filled the car. He stared out the window. "Not much of a view from here," he whispered.

"This is fine," Julie said. Her mouth was dry.

Nick took off his safety harness. He glanced at the side mirror, the rearview mirror.

"Anyone coming?"

He shook his head. "I wonder if we're off the road far enough."

"I think it's all right." She opened her seat belt and pushed it out of the way. "Besides, there's not a whole lot of traffic."

"Pretty isolated up here, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Dark, too." With a smile, she asked, "You scared?"

"Nah. Are you? We can go someplace else if you want."

"This is just fine," Julie said.

Nick turned in his seat. Though light from the half-moon spilled in through the windshield, shadows hid his face. His eyes were patches of darkness, but Julie felt his gaze like a warm caress. She saw him lick his lips. He wiped his hands on his slacks. Then he reached out with one hand and gently stroked her cheek. Turning her head, she kissed his palm. The hand lingered for a moment, then curled around the back of her neck and urged her closer.

She wrapped her arms around Nick. She kissed him. He caressed her face, her hair, her shoulders.

He was too far away from her. They were both turned sideways on the bucket seats, twisted awkwardly and leaning in across the gap. She was uncomfortable and frustrated. Finally, she whispered, "I wasn't made to bend this way."

"Oh." Nick let go of her. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"Don't be silly." She brushed her lower lip against his mouth. "Let's get in the backseat."

"You want to?" Straightening up, he looked up and down the road, as if to make sure the coast was clear. Then he shoved open the door. He muttered, "Damn it," as the interior light came on. Julie shielded her eyes against its sudden brightness. Then she crawled over the driver's seat and climbed out after Nick. He thrust forward the seat back. Julie ducked into the car. Nick scooted in beside her and pulled the door shut. As he locked it, Julie snuggled against him, rubbed his chest, kissed the side of his neck.

He cringed. "Hey, that tickles."

"Does it?" She nibbled his neck, making him squirm. "I vahnt your blood," she intoned in her best Bela Lugosi accent. Then she pulled him down across the seat. Kneeling above him, she probed his ribs, his belly. He giggled and writhed, tried to protect himself, and finally dug wiggling fingers into Julie's armpits. With a squeal, she forced his hands away. She pinned them to the cushion. Then she kissed him. She let go of his hands. They went around her back, caressing.

She was half off the seat, toes on the floor, knees pressed against the cushion's edge. "I'm coming up," she whispered. She swung a leg over Nick, pushed with the other, squirmed, and finally found herself on top of him. Her legs were wide apart to make space for his upraised knees. "Am I mashing you?" she asked.

"No."

For a long time, they kissed. Julie relaxed a little, savoring the closeness, the intimate joining of their mouths, the feel of him under her body, the touch of his hands. His hands roamed over her shoulders and back, rubbing her through the thin fabric of her blouse. He always stopped at the waistband of her skirt. Though her blouse had come untucked, he never felt beneath it.

Straddling him this way, Julie could barely move. She wanted to hold him, stroke him, not merely lie on him and kiss. "Maybe if we sit up," she finally said. She climbed off Nick.

He sat up straight. Facing him, Julie knelt over his lap and lowered herself. Nick leaned forward slightly. They embraced each other tightly. "This is much better," Julie whispered.

"Yeah."

She rubbed his back. He rubbed hers. Heart beating faster, she eased her hands under his shirt. She slid them up his smooth skin. He hesitated for a while, then followed her lead. His hands went under the back of her blouse, and glided up her bare skin. They curved over her shoulders, moved down her sides in a way that made her shiver, then swept in again toward her spine.

Julie leaned away. Nick's hands dropped to her thighs. They rested there, motionless, while Julie raised his knit shirt. She rubbed his bare chest, thumbs pressing his nipples. He was squirming slightly under her, as if uncomfortable.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Do you know what I did in the john?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

"What?"

"I think. you took something off."

"Is that what you think?"

"Yeah." Nick lifted one hand from her thigh. It was half shut in a loose fist. It moved slowly higher. Julie's heart felt like a sledgehammer as the curled fingers pressed against her blouse just below her left breast. He brushed the underside of her breast, followed the curve upward. She caught her breath as he found her rigid nipple. The hand opened, and held her. Then his other hand closed around her right breast. "God, Julie," he whispered.

She clung to his shoulders and arched her back. She quivered as he explored her through the blouse, sliding the fabric over her skin, cupping her, squeezing gently, fingertips tracing her nipples. Finally, he opened the buttons. He spread the front of her blouse. He stared.

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

Laughing softly, Nick pulled her forward. Her naked breasts pushed against his chest. He covered her face with kisses. His hands went under the back of her blouse, moved up and down as if hungry for the feel of her bare skin.

He went over sideways, holding her, guiding her down. Then she was on her back. One leg hung off the seat and the other was stretched out between Nick's legs. His thigh was a heavy pressure on her groin. She writhed against it, gasping. His chest was on one breast. His hand fondled the other, squeezed it, stroked its swollen nipple. Moaning, squirming with need, Julie thrust Nick's face away from her. She forced his head lower. He kissed her nipple. Licked it. He took it into his mouth. He sucked on it, and Julie whimpered. He tried to raise his head, as if worried, but she forced it down and held it there. He sucked hard. It hurt and it sent shocks of pleasure through her body.

Then it wasn't his thigh against her groin. It was his hand. Outside her skirt, but rubbing. "No," she gasped. "Nick, no." It didn't go away. She thrust herself against it. "No. Stop." She reached down for it, and clutched his wrist, intending to push his hand away. Instead, she pressed it to her.