The Lake

It was late afternoon. Time for a shower, Leigh decided. Then I’ll prepare supper. Wonder what Deana had for lunch?

She eased the key into the lock. The door swung open.

“Deana,” she called.

No reply.

Her heart racing a little, Leigh bit her lip.

No worries, she thought.

Maybe Deana went over to Warren’s place.

FIFTY-ONE

The sun was going from the front of the house.

Fingers of shadow spread across the hallway.

Leigh held her breath; a twinge of dread plucked at her stomach.

She listened.

Heard a slight flutter…

Probably a bird outside…

Then:

Light footfalls scurried behind her.

A hand clawed out roughly, catching her hair, cupping her mouth.

Cutting off her cry of “HELPPP—”

Struggling wildly, she broke free. Twisting away, she swung around.

And gasped, her heart lurching, the color draining from her face. Her legs trembled.

She felt herself swaying.

It can’t be.

It was…

Nelson.

FIFTY-TWO

“I’d best be getting on home. Mom’ll be worried. I called to say I’d be back by ten.”

Warren glanced at his watch. Ten-fifteen.

“I’ll drive you,” he said, adding, “I’d be happier that way.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

They stepped into the darkness. It was cooler now. And quiet—except for the breeze stirring the leaves around them. Deana thought about the funeral car and shivered.

Inside the Porsche, she said, “Mom worries about me these days. Since…it all happened. I guess I should really be home, keeping her company.”

“Y’know, that’s what I love about you, Deana. You’re so nice to your mom.”

“Oh yeah? How about all that poetic stuff? Skin like milk, eyes like deep pools, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Oh, so you want Dark Lady of the Sonnets?”

“Mmmm, Shakespeare. Now you’re talking—although I’ll have you know, Warren Hastings, my reputation is whiter than white. Compared to the Dark Lady’s, that is!”

An excited tingle began in her stomach. Warren hadn’t mentioned the word “love” before. Allan had, when they talked about the Friday the 13th movie, the night he got killed. “I love the way you squeal and cover your eyes…and peek through your fingers,” he’d said.

But when Warren said “love” in that quiet, sincere way, the word took on a whole new meaning. He said it as if he really meant it.

As she stole a glance at him, her excitement mounted. She hardly dared breathe. He slid the key in the ignition and started the car. Reaching the end of the driveway, he made a right and slowed down. He brought it to a halt.

Turning to her, he said softly, “Y’know, I do care about you, Deana. I care a lot.”

He’s gonna kiss me, I know it…

She swallowed hard, and whispered, “And I like you, Warren. You’ve been great this last coupla weeks or so.” Then, as an afterthought: “And Mom likes you, too.”

She cringed inside, and made a face.

And Mom likes you, too!

What a dork! As sweet nothings go, Deana West, that sure takes the biscuit!

She gave a wry grin.

“Great,” he said, winking at her. “A guy always likes to know he has parental approval!”

She grew embarrassed. “Why d’you always make a joke of everything?”

“Nerves. When things get serious, I resort to humor. Which, I might add, doesn’t mean I’m any the less serious about you—if you get my meaning?”

“Sure I do, Warren. That’s why I like you. You’re so…”

“Mature?”

“Well, yeah, that’s the word—now you’re joking again!”

Their eyes met. She caught a ragged breath. Her heart pounded. Deliciously aware of his proximity, she reached over and gave his knee a tentative squeeze. Looking deep into her eyes, he began tracing a fingertip down her cheek.

She shivered, pressing her thighs together, feeling the sharp tingly buzz between them.

He stopped stroking, pulled her forward, and kissed her softly on the lips.

Her breath quickened and she leaned into him, her breasts crushing against his chest. Her nipples stiffened. Her heart raced. It was like they’d been searching for each other all of their lives.

She squirmed and wriggled closer. His hand caressed her knee, then slid along her thigh, kneading the firm, naked flesh.

Deana sighed and reached down to touch him, smiling softly as his hard-on jerked under her hand. Hesitating a moment, she found his zipper, peeled it down, and reached inside. Her hand closed around his erection. It felt strong and hard. Her fingers traveled its length, caressing the tip. It was smooth, warm, moist. Their lips met again, his tongue found hers, and he sucked with long hard strokes. Still holding him, she moaned into his mouth, her hand jerking in a steady rhythm.

This is so fantastic, she thought. I don’t want it to stop. Ever.

Good thing I’m wearing my wrapover…and left off my bra.

His hand slipped inside her blouse; it felt warm against her breasts. Massaging them gently, feeling their weight, running his fingertips over her nipples.