Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

His penis was rigid against her thigh. She shoved at his hip. He raised himself slightly and Julie touched him. He felt hard and hot through his pants. And very big. She wondered how it would feel inside her. The thought of that, the way it felt in her hand, the way Nick was massaging and sucking — all of it was too much. Crying out, she bucked and twisted. She clutched Nick. His penis throbbed against her hand and the agony of Julie's desire broke in a flood of release.

Then they lay beside each other, panting, kissing gently. "I love you so much," Nick whispered.

"I love you more."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do," she said. "And I want to stay here forever. I don't ever want to move."

"We'll have to move, sooner or later."

"What time is it?"

He checked his wristwatch. "About ten till ten."

"Already?" She sighed. She hugged him tightly. They kissed. They caressed each other. "I feel so peaceful and nice," she said.

"Me, too." Nick yawned.

"Am I boring you?"

He laughed, his breath warm on her face.

Julie yawned, too. She snuggled against him. "What if we fall asleep and don't wake up till midnight?"

"Or morning?"

"What time is it?"

"Ten-twenty."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

"I don't want to leave."

"We'd better. We don't want your dad to get worried."

"Yeah, I know."

They sat up. As Nick straightened his shirt, Julie looked out the windows. Except for patches of moonlight, the street was dark. She saw no one.

Nick turned away from her. The bright ceiling light came on when he opened the door. While he climbed out, Julie took off her blouse. She tossed it onto the front seat.

Nick leaned into the car and stared.

"Something wrong?"

"My God, Julie."

She scooted across the seat, and climbed out. A warm breeze drifted against her.

"You nuts?" Nick asked.

"Yep." She raised her arms, and Nick stepped into them. His hands ran up and down her back as he kissed her. Then she eased him away. "We'd better go," she said.

"You're so beautiful."

"But nuts?"

"Yeah."

With a grin, she turned away. She crawled across the driver's seat, and sat down. Nick climbed in. He left the door slightly ajar to keep the light on while Julie lifted her purse from the floor. She took her bra out.

"Wait," Nick said. Leaning toward her, he slid a hand over her breast. His fingers curled around it, holding it firmly. Then he let go.

He continued to gaze at Julie while she put on her bra, fastened it, and slipped into her blouse. As she buttoned it, he tugged his door shut. He started the car. He turned on the headlights. He shifted to first gear, and released the emergency brake. The car started to roll forward. Its sluggish motion felt strange to Julie. Nick struggled with the steering wheel. Then he turned off the engine.

"What's wrong?" Julie asked.

"I don't know." He got out. He crouched by the front tire, stood up, and stepped around to the other side. He crouched again. Then he stood, and stared through the windshield at Julie.

"Oh, no," she muttered. A chill, sick feeling spread through her. She scurried across the seat and climbed out of the car.

The front tire was flat.

"This one over here, too," Nick said. He sounded grim.

"How could it happen?"

He walked slowly toward her, holding out his hand. "Look."

She peered at the small, dark object resting on his palm. "What is it?"

"Part of a valve stem."

"I don't get it," she muttered.

"Both front tires. Somebody cut off the valve stems."

"Oh, Jesus! While we were…"

Nick answered with a nod.

Julie's legs went weak. She leaned against the side of the car. She felt crawly with gooseflesh. As she rubbed her arms, her eyes searched the darkness. The narrow, moonlit road looked deserted. There were no streetlights, no parked cars. Bushes along the guardrail looked like silent, watching men.

Nick patted her arm. "Don't worry."

"Who's worried?"

Leaning into the car, he shut off the headlights. He came out with the keys, and swung the door shut. Julie followed him to the trunk. "Can you change the tires?" she asked.

"I've only got one spare." He removed the tire iron.

"Then what's that for?"

"Just in case." He shut the trunk.

"Oh, man," Julie muttered.

"Let's go."

"Where?"

"To a telephone. We've gotta call the auto club." He took her hand, and they started down the road. They looked over their shoulders as they walked.

"There won't be a public phone," Julie said, "till we get to Ventura Boulevard."

"Probably not."

"I'm really sorry I got you into this, Nick."

"It's not your fault."

"Oh, yeah? It wouldn't have happened if we'd stayed at the movies. Me and my great ideas."

He squeezed her hand. "It was a great idea. It was. No matter what happens, I'll never regret it."

"No matter what happens. Oh, wonderful. What are you expecting?"

"I don't know. This is all part of it, though, isn't it?"

"The curse, you mean?"

"I guess that's what I mean."

"Oh, man."

Striding around a bend, they came upon a steep, narrow drive. To one side of it, half hidden behind bushes, stood a mailbox. The number on the box was 21; the name, FISH.The lane slanted up the slope, curving, disappearing in the darkness. "It must be a driveway," Julie said. "Should we give it a try?"

"Call from someone's house?"

"If we don't, we've got an awfully long walk ahead of us. What time is it?"

"Ten-thirty-five."

"We couldn't possibly get to Ventura by eleven. Dad'll start going crazy."

"Guess we'd better do it then."

With a final look at the bleak, deserted road behind them, they started up the driveway. Trees blocked out the moonlight. The night was full of familiar sounds: an airliner, the honk of a car, a man's shout, a door slamming. But they all came from far away, as if they belonged to a different world. Only the chirping of crickets came from nearby. And their own noises: the scuff of their shoes on the concrete, their heavy breathing.

"This is one long driveway," Nick whispered.

"It's almost like we're back in the mountains."

"No packs, at least."

Julie looked back. Nobody there. The road they'd left was out of sight, hidden beyond a bend in the driveway.

Nick dropped behind her. He pressed his hand to her back, and pushed as she walked. "Oh, that's better."

"Glad to be of service."

They trudged around a curve in the driveway, and Nick's hand fell away. He stepped up beside her. They stood motionless, breathing hard, staring at the house.

With its rough stone walls and steep tile roof, it looked vaguely foreign to Julie.

"Hansel and Gretel time," Nick whispered.

She gave his arm a soft jab.

Except for a single post lamp along the walkway to the door, there were no lights. A monstrous, ancient Cadillac was parked near the garage.

"What do you think?" Nick asked.

"We came this far."

"It doesn't look very. inviting."

"Let's give it a shot, Hansel."

They walked to the door. There didn't seem to be a bell, just a brass knocker shaped like a fist. Nick lifted it, and rapped three times. Quickly, he propped the tire iron against the doorframe. Julie wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt. "Sure hope they have a phone," she whispered.

They waited. No sounds came from inside the house.

"Should we try again?" Julie asked.

"Maybe they're asleep."

She lifted the heavy knocker and the door swung open, pulling it from her hand. She flinched. The brass fell with a clamor.

A man looked out at them. He was not old and gnarled, as Julie had somehow expected. He appeared to be about forty. He was bald, and very fat. His blue kimono, sashed at the waist, was shiny in the glow of the foyer lamp. It reached nearly to his knees. His legs were bare. He wore dark socks. He stared, and said nothing. He was frowning slightly, but seemed more curious than angry.