Richard Laymon - The Lake
Mace grinned. “Sure you are, Leigh. The luckiest. Fabulous house. Great restaurant. Looks. Style. Smart kid—and me.”
Facing her in the tub, he traced swirls through the bubbles on her left breast. Fascinated, he watched her nipple emerge as he teased the foam with his forefinger.
His other hand caressed her thigh.
She lifted her head and took a deep breath. The warm night air was balmy on her wet skin.
She met his eyes and smiled.
Bathing together in the hot tub had been an idea she’d played around with all day.
Well, at least from lunchtime.
After identifying Nelson this morning, hot tubs, not to mention fun and games with Mace, had been a million miles from her mind.
Later, she’d reneged on that.
Why not chill out in the redwood tub?
With Mace…
Could help to clear my mind of Nelson.
The remains of Nelson, she corrected herself.
On the way over to the morgue, Mace told her to think objectively. “It’s a corpse we got here,” he’d said. “Not a human being. All you gotta do is identify some itty-bitty thing—a signet ring, clothing, anything on the body you recognize as belonging to Nelson.”
One look at the gray, sodden, eaten face with holes for eyes, the chewed, ragged hands, and she’d gagged, found herself folding to her knees. Mace caught her and held her tight. She leaned into him gratefully.
As she fought back vomit burning her throat, her gaze returned to the sheet-covered body. The chewed stringy arms lay outside the sheet.
She saw a gold ring—Nelson always wore one on the forefinger of his right hand.
Except now it clung perilously to a flimsy gray stump that used to be the forefinger of the corpse’s right hand. Dumbly, she nodded. As far as she could see, this was Nelson, all right.
Mace took her home and poured out a brandy. He stood by while she drank it down.
Surprisingly, Leigh wasn’t feeling as wrecked as she’d expected. At least seeing Nelson’s remains meant she and Deana could put him, and his sick little games, behind them now. Reluctant to leave her alone, Mace asked, “Sure you’re gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. No worries,” she answered with a brave smile. Seeing his concern, she added, “Really, Mace. I’ll be okay.”
“You make sure you rest, now. I’ll drop by later. Check you out.”
As good as his word, Mace arrived after dinner—complete with Dom Perignon champagne.
Deana pouted when she saw him, and stomped off to her room.
Shit.
Screw Mace.
It would have been nice to spend just one evening alone with Mom!
She switched on her TV, channel-hopped for a while, then decided on a rerun of Friday the 13th.
She’d seen it before.
But tonight, especially tonight, Friday the 13th suited her mood precisely.
THIRTY-THREE
Leigh planned the hot tub, intending it to be a nice, relaxing thing for them both to do. And if they moved on to other things—then so be it.
She figured either way would be great.
But the end result wasn’t working out quite as she’d planned. For one thing, Mace still wore his white T-shirt. And his undershorts.
She reminded herself that it was she who’d pulled him into the tub. Fully clothed. And strangely, it seemed like Mace was in no rush to remove them.
Except his jeans. He’d tugged at them, under water, struggled around, then tossed them onto the decking.
She grinned.
Good thing he’d left his leather jacket and gun holster in the living room.
She turned up the bubbles.
Mace was ready to play.
But, suddenly, she wasn’t.
What is it with me?
Why don’t I want to join in the fun?
Admit it, Leigh. You can’t get Nelson out of your mind.
Okay. He’s gone. But she still couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was partly responsible for his death.
She shuddered.
It had been so horrible, identifying his body this morning…
Thank God that was all over now.
Catching Leigh’s faraway look, Mace frowned. Christ, he thought impatiently, is she still thinking about Nelson?
Or was something else playing on her mind?
Right now, Mace had something on his mind.
And it sure wasn’t Nelson.
“Leigh. You know how I feel about you…”
“Don’t spoil it, Mace. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for now. Save the serious stuff for later, huh? It’s been an emotional time all around, and I think we’re both feeling the pressure. Let’s just relax…”
She slid down into the bubbles till only her head and the tops of her shoulders were visible. She felt Mace’s thighs moving in the water, touching hers.
Steam rose and puffed around them. She fought to stay awake, but her eyelids were drooping. As the bubbles massaged her body, her limbs began to feel heavy.
Her eyes closed all the way.
Mace slipped down, too. Tangling his legs with hers. Under the water, his hand reached out…
She jerked, went taut, pressing her legs together. Waves swelled up over her chin. She swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, and for a moment her face was submerged.
She swooshed to the surface, shaking her head, running fingers through her wet hair. As she struggled around on the seat, her pale skin gleamed in the darkness.
“Mace,” she snapped. “Quit foolin’ around!”
“Ssshhh!” Mace put a finger to his lips. “You’ll wake Deana. Do that, and she might want to join us!”
“MACE!”
Still feeling on edge, Leigh rose from the tub. The turbulent water swished and swirled around her. The cool air chilled her body. She shivered and folded her arms tight across her breasts.
Mace leaned back, admiring her slick form, glowing in the darkness above him. He whistled softly. She looked like da Vinci’s Venus rising from the foam.
“Mmmm. Ms. West. D’you know you have the most desirable body? Stay as you are…I’ll go get my camera.”
She gave an abrupt laugh and Mace stood up, water sluicing his body. He stepped out of the tub.
“Hurry,” she said tersely. She felt impatient, but managed to smile and shudder with cold at the same time.
“Can’t wait, huh?”
He held out his arms. She climbed out of the tub, hesitated a moment, then snuggled into them. Clinging together, they shivered a little in the night air.
Murmuring into her smooth wet hair, he said, “Forget the shots, baby. They can wait. Let’s go get us a drink.”
Pressing into his body, she felt his erection growing, pushing, probing her pubic hair. She leaned up toward him, her open mouth closing on his.
Slipping her hand inside his wet shorts, she found his shaft and curled her fingers around it. Sliding her hand up and down, she felt him growing stronger all the time. Her mood changed. The yearning ache returned.
Taking his hard-on with both hands, she pulled it to her, jabbing it against her opening.
Gasping with longing, she tightened her legs around him, her rim throbbing painfully.
“I want you in me, Mace. In me, now. For godsake, Mace…”
“No,” he said, holding her hair, pulling her head back and up to meet his face. “No, my angel. Down here first.”
Drawing back, she let go of his erection.
Her heart sank.
Smiling, he lowered his gaze, looking at his shaft, pushing her down till she was on her knees before him. “Some head first, honey,” he said huskily. “Just to get things moving.”
Disappointment sliced through her like a knife.
She wanted him.
In her.
Not this way.
She wanted him to ram deep—like he’d done last night.
She grabbed at him, disappointed, impatient. Holding his shaft with both hands. Feeling it jerk in her grasp.
God, she was desperate.
She needed him.
But if this is what it takes, she thought, then so be it…
She took him in her mouth, sucking, swirling her tongue around his bulk, feeling the ridges, the tight silky skin.
Then gagging as he thrust himself deeper and deeper into her, holding her head hard against him.
She broke away, choking, gasping, looking up at him, her eyes bright, wide with shock.
“Mace,” she whispered thickly. “That was too much. I nearly choked on you, there.”
“You loved it, Leigh. You know you loved it.”
“No, Mace. It was too much. Just hold me, will you…” She broke off, her lips trembling, hot tears falling down her cheeks. His bittersweet taste strong in her mouth.
She’d ached for him, wanted him inside her. She’d do almost anything, but, Christ, that…that hadn’t been the most sensitive way of making love tonight.
She choked back a sob. How could he treat her like this? After all she’d been through today…
Shivering, she struggled to her feet, brought up her arms, wrapped them tight around her body. She swayed slightly, still hugging herself.
God. The disappointment. The tension.
It was all too much.
She felt cold. Utterly exhausted.
A smile played around Mace’s lips. Raising his brows, he held out his arms. “Come to Mace, then. There, there…don’t take it so hard. But don’t tell me you aren’t into a little violence now and then? Thought you were a gal who’d appreciate some rough and tumble—but seems I was wrong. Sorry about that, Leigh.”
His eyes glinted in the darkness and the smile, vaguely mocking a moment ago, suddenly softened to one of concern.
Her arms fell to her sides. She relaxed, moved in against him, feeling his warmth, his strong, hard body…
“Come now, honey,” he murmured. “How about opening that bottle of champagne I brought us? A coupla drinks and we’ll start over. Huh?”
“Sure.” She smiled up at him. They walked through the patio door and entered the dark living room. Maybe she had been a fool, she told herself. Making a stupid fuss over nothing.
Just that I’m feeling vulnerable tonight, is all.
“I’ll go get us some towels,” she said quietly.
Moving away from him, she turned on the coffee-table lamp and went to the bathroom.
Legs astride, hands on hips, Mace watched her go. Her buttocks swaying, her long shapely legs moving leisurely, one before the other, she looked like a catwalk mannequin.
Hell, he thought, she’d give most movie stars a run for their money.
She had glamor. Something he liked in a woman.
She returned to the living room, wearing a soft bulky robe, the sash tied tight around her waist. Mace thought how young and vulnerable she looked.
Too young to have an eighteen-year-old daughter…
She carried a couple of towels under her arm. Tossing one over, she said, “Here, don’t want you catching your death. Take off those wet things, too. I’ll dry them for you.”
He caught the towel. He wrapped it around his waist.
Leigh began rubbing her hair with the second towel.
“Very sexy,” he murmured, watching her through half-closed eyes as he made for the bathroom.
She quit rubbing and shook her head. Her golden hair fluffed out like a halo. Her legs were shaky. She was still feeling a little awkward about her earlier outburst.
Time to relax, she told herself.
She went to the kitchen and reappeared, moments later, with the champagne in an ice bucket. Ice chinked around as she placed it on the coffee table.
Mace emerged from the bathroom, holding his wet T-shirt and shorts. He wore a white towel robe, one that Leigh’s dad used on the rare occasions he and Mom stayed over.
His tanned body showed up in sharp contrast to the white robe. Eyeing him with reluctant admiration, Leigh felt a flicker of excitement. For a long time, their eyes met. Then, smiling, she dropped her gaze. Took his wet clothes and stepped into the kitchen.
Arranging them in the dryer, she tried to convince herself she could still enjoy the remains of the night.
THIRTY-FOUR
“Let the orgy commence!”
Leigh winced as Mace grabbed the champagne. Catching her expression, he gave a wry smile, tore off the foil top, and twisted up the wire.
The cork flew out with a loud pop.
They giggled, searching around for it on their hands and knees, their earlier tension all but gone.
“Over here,” he called. “Under the TV table.”
He paused, looking at the photographs placed either side of the TV. Family shots; memorable Kodak moments showing Leigh and Deana laughing into the camera, arms around each other. Two older people—Leigh’s parents, he guessed.
And Deana standing alone. In a white bikini. On a seashore…
“I want to keep it,” Leigh was saying. “Call me old-fashioned, but I think it’s kinda romantic to save corks from champagne bottles. Write dates on them, names, that kinda thing. Folks do it all the time in the restaurant…”
“Women!”
He laughed, tossing the cork to her.
“That’s what I love about you, Leigh West. You’re all woman. Beneath that cool exterior, I swear there’s a soft, sensual seductress just crying to be let out.”
He poured the fizz into two flutes, already set by the ice bucket. Waited till the bubbles settled before filling up the glasses.
“Here’s to…to what?” His eyes twinkled. He paused, brows lifted inquiringly.
“To the future, Mace. A future without Nelson.”
“To us, Leigh.” He looked into her eyes. She flinched slightly at their intensity.
Relax, Leigh, she told herself. It’s party time. Go with the flow. Let it all happen.
She smiled at him. “To us,” she said, chinking her glass against his.
Then:
“Mace…”
“Uh-huh?”
“Mace, about what happened back there. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? My fault, Leigh. Shouldn’t have pressured you like that. A guy gets a little carried away sometimes. So let’s say no more about it. I’m sorry. Didn’t spoil our night, I hope?”
“No, of course not.” Leigh gave a hesitant smile, wishing that were true.
It’s been too long between men, she reasoned. I’ve almost forgotten how it was with them.
