Pleasure Thieves

"Let's hope he makes it," Phillip said in a hollow voice. Carol's body felt mummified. He reached under the covers and began to rub her body, like an exorcist fighting with the devil. He rubbed her belly and thighs, kneading the flesh between his strong fingers.

"You feel wonderful darling," he whispered. "Your flesh is very strong and firm."

She laughed, "Not terribly weak! I've lain sick in this bed for a week, wanting another man, and now you're going to command my cunt. Yes, you're going to fuck me and everything will be back to normal."

"No, baby," he patiently explained, his hand traveling to the naked vagina. "Baby, that's strong. We have to be resilient. We've got to be able to come back to ourselves, always. Harry isn't one of us," he continued. "Harry is possessed. Harry is a genius." His finger moved into the dry crevice. "And we can't fit geniuses into our lives. We'd have to change too much for that."

He ran his mouth over her hair and eyes and neck and soft breathing breasts. "We don't want to change completely. We love the familiar, the comfortable… We're normal people," he further intoned. "We have little time to give to geniuses."

"I want him," Carol said finally. "I want to change. If he comes back, Phillip, if he wants me, I'm his."

"You're mine, Carol," Phillip warned. "I haven't educated you for another man. You can want another man; that just gives you another dimension. But you're mine. You and the other man become mine.

Now I have two of you, Carol – you and your little fantasy that there's something in you separate and apart for Harry. Now I have the part of you I shall always have, and the part you reserve for Harry."

He covered her soft nipple with his mouth. She sank deep into the pillows.

"Harry will save me," she warned. "Harry will take me away from you." His teeth were shaping tiny bites on the tightening, stiffening tit.

His hand wandered to the other breast. He pinched the hungry flesh.

He brushed the hairless mound of her cunt, and then lifted his hot face to look at her. "No disguise," he murmured, tracing her belly and smooth pussy. "No disguise for me, Carol. I always see you. I always see my daughter, my sick little girl, behind all the disguises. You need that, don't you? You need to be seen occasionally.

"Harry doesn't see anything, because Harry doesn't care. He's a dedicated man. He's got a habit. He'd leave you in a second, without a thought, without an idea that there was an alternative act – just for a diamond that glittered on the horizon. He'd leave you again and again to get to the end of his rainbow. And you know where the end is, Carol. You're a smart girl. You know Harry's going to be all alone when he gets there."

She started to answer, to plead, to say anything. She couldn't say, "It isn't true, Phillip. He'll come back and take me with him." And that was the only thing worth saying, the only thing that had meaning for either of them. Phillip brushed the thin nightgown aside, and stuck his hot mouth to her cunt. He sucked deeply, until he had pulled the hidden, tamed clitoris erect into his mouth. Then, when her hips jerked mechanically and uncontrollably, he sank his tongue deep into her musty sex, and ate her.

***

Harry said, "A hamburger and a black coffee."

The short-order cook threw the raw meat on the grill. "Relish, sir?"

"No." He knew he wasn't going to eat it anyway. He hadn't been able to eat or sleep in the hot little Cuban town, waiting for the Llewellyn garden party. Somehow, Mrs. Llewellyn had overlooked extending an invitation to Harry, but he'd be there. No one had traveled further, or planned more carefully to mingle with the Llewellyn guests.

Then a brief swim in the dry pool, and he'd get back to Carol. But that was so far away. He could only think as far as having the magnificent jewels in his hands.

He took a few bites out of the decorated hamburger, and suddenly impatient, dropped a dollar bill on the counter and walked through the swinging doors. He marched swiftly down the narrow street of the crowded native section of the town. The Keys seemed completely Spanish today, puff-white in an azure sky. There were sounds of folk guitars and rapid sibilant Spanish voices, high and eager. Some shops were boarded up for the four-hour siesta. Harry kept moving till he reached the old piers on the far end of the village.

On the pier he looked at his watch, bent forward, and shouted to the pilot so that he could be heard over the roar of the racing engine. "I'll want the boat sometime before three o'clock."

"All right, Mr. Gregory," the pilot called back. He'd clung to the convenient anonymity Phillip had given him.

"The boat's in great shape. She'll be ready to run anytime this afternoon."

"Thanks," Phillip said, and started to walk away from the pier. The pilot jumped nimbly onto the wooden dock and came swiftly to Phillip, his espadrilles silent and soft on the sun dried boards.