Flesh

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“It was a loverly dinner,” Celia said as they left the Lobster Shanty. “And you are a loverly person.”

“My pleasure,” Jason said.

She swept an arm around his back and pressed herself against him and kissed him. They were standing in the light beneath the restaurant’s portico, but the parking valet was nowhere in sight. Neither was anyone else. Jason held her, feeling the wet heat of her mouth, the soft push of her breasts, her belly flat against his belly. He was getting hard. He knew she could feel it. She squirmed, rubbing him. He slid a hand down her back. There was only smoothness through her gown, not even a band at her waist. He caressed the firm mounds of her rump.

He thought about Dana and felt guilty. I’m doing it for you, he told her.

For me, right, he could almost hear her say. You’re turned on, you bastard.

So who’s going to tell on me? he asked himself. Dana might even be dead.

Don’t think that. Jesus.

A car pulled into the restaurant’s driveway, so they parted. Holding Celia’s hand, Jason led her to the sidewalk. “Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked.

“Sure thing.”

“I know a nice, secluded place.”

“The secludeder, the better,” she said, bumped his side, staggered, turned her ankle and said, “Ow! Shit. Hang on.” She kicked off her high heels. Keeping her knees straight, she bent at the waist to pick up her shoes. Jason stared at the way the gown clung to her buttocks. Thoughts of Dana prevented him from stroking her. Celia straightened up, holding her shoes. “Tough enough, walking in these things if you’re sober.”

“You mean you’re not sober?”

“Not entirely,” she said, speaking the words slowly and precisely. “Nor am I entirely polluted.” She made a lopsided grin. “Are you entirely polluted?”

“I am un peu polluted.”

They arrived at his car. He opened the passenger door, helped Celia in, then went around to his side. The overhead light came on when he opened the door. Celia’s left arm was hooked over the seat back, drawing her dress taut across her breast. Her nipple made the glossy fabric jut. Her left leg had found its way through the gown’s slitted side. Except for a flesh-colored elastic band wrapping the knee, it was bare to her hip. The fabric draped her inner thigh. I’ll get a nice shot, Jason thought, if that little bit of cloth moves slightly farther to the right.

Celia grinned as if she knew what he was thinking. “Are you getting in, or what?”

“Yeah.” He sat down behind the steering wheel and pulled the door shut. The light went off. He fumbled the key into the ignition and started the car.

Celia’s hand found the back of his neck, rubbed gently. “You tense?” she asked.

“A little, I guess.” He pulled away from the curb.

“How come?” she asked, massaging his neck muscles. “You aren’t nervous about me, are you?”

“I think it’s excitement more than nerves,” he said.

“Mmmm.”

But it’s nerves, too, he thought. Christ. It hadn’t gone the way he’d planned. He’d planned to get her smashed, and that part of it had worked fine; she was plenty loaded. But he hadn’t planned on feeling anything. He was to play a role in the melodrama cooked up by Roland to save Dana. That’s all. Act a part. Act interested and affectionate while he plied her with fine food and plenty of booze until she was plastered mindless and totally helpless.

She’s just the way I want her, he told himself.

But I’m not.

It had started to go wrong the moment he saw her and thought, Dana never looked this good. Feeling like a traitor, he had tried to push the thought out of his mind. All through the evening, however, he compared the two and found Dana the loser. Celia was far more beautiful than Dana. She seemed to listen, to care about what he said. She wasn’t conceited. She was wittier than Dana, sometimes breaking him up, but even her sharpest remarks seemed good-humored and without the malice that made Dana’s sarcasm a little ugly. She had a warmth, a softness, that was totally alien to the other girl.

While they ate, he had found himself more and more attracted to Celia. And he felt poisoned by guilt. He was betraying Celia by using her this way; he was betraying Dana by wanting to trade her for Celia.

“That light’s…”

Red, he thought. But it was too late to stop, so he sped on through the intersection.

Celia’s hand went away from his neck. “You’d better concentrate on your driving,” she said. “If you get stopped in your condition…”

“Yeah.” For the next block, he watched the rearview.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Something on your mind?”

“You.”

“Me. I know, you’re overwhelmed by my cheauty and barm.”

Jason smiled. “Right, your cheauty and barm.”

“And dizzy with anticipation.”

“You’re very perceptive.”

“But what is it, really? I mean, has it got something to do with Dana?”

Jason felt a jump inside his chest.

“You two were going at it pretty hot and heavy, and suddenly she’s out of the picture and I’m in. Do you want to talk aboud…about it? I mean, this isn’t some kind of ploy to get back at her or make her jealous or something, is it?”

A ploy, all right.

He was thankful for the darkness hiding his hot face which was probably scarlet.

“It’s not that at all,” he said. “We broke up, but she didn’t dump me. I dumped her. I just couldn’t stand her any longer, she’s such a bitch. I don’t know what I ever saw in her in the first place.”

Sorry Dana, he thought.

Eat shit, he imagined her snapping. You meant every word of it. I was never anything to you but snatch. But fair’s fair, you were nothing to me but a hard cock.

He turned onto Latham Road.

“I finally realized,” he said, “that I was missing a lot. I mean, a relationship needs to be more than screwing.”

“Two entirely different things,” Celia said.

“I don’t know. I want to at least like the person I’m with, and it was getting so I didn’t even want to be around her. She was hard and crass and mean…not like you. You’re really a sweet person.”

“Yeah, I’m an angel.”

“Compared to her, you are.” So why am I taking you out there? I don’t owe Dana a damn thing. Besides, she might already be dead (I almost hope…No!) and I shouldn’t be talking about her like this, thinking about her like this—even though it’s the truth.

I’ve got to do what I can for her. I owe her that much.

It’s a stupid plan, anyway. It’ll never work.

So if nothing happens, I take Celia home and she never has to know she was bait.

And if it works, fat chance, nobody gets hurt anyway. We nail the guy, he takes us to Dana.

Takes us to her body, hanging naked from a rafter, mutilated and dead.

But nothing will happen to Celia, either way.

Take her someplace else. Forget the whole thing. A motel, maybe. That’d be nice. Don’t do this to her.

“Just up ahead,” Celia said, “is where that guy tried to run me down.”

“Do you want a look?”

She shook her head. “I don’t even like being this close. My bike’s still there. I haven’ even gone back for it.”

“Should we pick it up? We could put it in the backseat.” Say yes, he thought. We’ll get the bike, we’ll forget about the Oakwood.

“Iss too messed up. Even if it could be repaired, I wouldn’t want it anyway. I’ll ged a new one if I ever want to go riding again.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Jason slowed down, flicked the arm of the turn signal, and swung the car onto the narrow road leading to the Oakwood Inn. He looked at Celia. She was staring at him.

“Where’re we going?” she whispered.

“There’s a parking lot. It’ll be good and deserted.”

“This’s where those people got killed Thursday night.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I read about it. If you’d rather go someplace else…”

“No.” That was all she said. She didn’t explain.

“I think we won’t have to worry about being disturbed,” Jason said. “Nobody’ll come out to a place like this after what happened.”

“Maybe for the thrill.”

The road flared out. Jason steered to the right. He drove in a circle, watching his head beams sweep around the parking lot. There were no other cars. The beams met a corner of the restaurant and moved across its dark front, flashing off the windows. When they lit the door, he stopped.

“Go closer,” Celia whispered.

“Are you…? Okay.” He let the car roll forward almost to the porch stairs. Then he stopped it, turned off the engine, and set the emergency brake. He left the headlights on.

Celia leaned forward, a hand against the dash, and peered out the windshield. “Weird,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Being this close to where it happened. Get the lights, okay?”

He pushed the knob.

Celia stared through the darkness. “Think we could get in?” she asked.

So easy. She wanted to go in. Let’s do it, get it over with.

“I don’t know,” Jason muttered.

“Scared?” she asked. Her voice sounded a little shaky.

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer. She eased back into her seat. Looking at Jason, she lifted his hand and placed it on her bare thigh. “Can you feel the gooseflesh?”

He moved his hand lightly up her leg. Yes, he could feel the gooseflesh. She must’ve shaved, but the nubs of hair were standing and just a bit bristly along the top of her thigh. He curved his hand down the inner side. There, the skin was smooth, incredibly smooth and soft. The fabric brushed the edge of his palm. Another inch, he thought, maybe two…

She’ll let me, I know she will.

No. You can’t mess around with her, not if you’re going ahead with it.

So forget the plan. It’s a dumb plan.

What if Dana’s alive, maybe being kept somewhere, being raped and tortured by some maniac, and this is her only chance? You can’t just write her off.

Damn it, what’ll I do?

He took his hand away from Celia’s leg. “Yeah,” he said, “gooseflesh. Are you scared or cold?”

“I got the willies,” she said. Jason could see the white of her teeth. “You think that’s racist? The willies?”

“Why would it be racist?”

“Wasn’ Willy a black guy in the old movies, like in the thirties? He’d get in a haunted house and go all buggy-eyed and shaky?”

“Gee, I don’t know.”

“I think tha’s where the expression came from. The willies. But don’ hold me to it. Wherever it came from, I got ’em.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Jason said, “for getting rid of the willies.”

“Not sure I wanna get rid of ’em. Kind of like the feeling. Y’know? I’m all shivery inside. It’s almost sexual.”

“Well, maybe this’ll make you feel even more shivery inside.” Huddling down against the steering wheel, he reached under the car seat and pulled out a bottle of champagne.

“Well now,” Celia said. “That’s what I call class.”

He nodded and began to peel the foil off the top of the bottle.

The champagne had been Roland’s idea. Insurance, Roland had called it. Fill her up with bubbly, you won’t have any trouble at all getting her inside. With any luck, she’ll pass out. You can carry her in.

It was insurance that Jason didn’t need.

But he wanted time to think, to decide.

If we do go in, he told himself, it’ll work better if she’s totally smashed.

As he twisted the wire seal, Celia turned away from him. Reaching across her body, she used her left hand to roll the window down. She faced him again. “You can shoot the cork out my window.”

“Don’t want to hit you with it.”

“On a good day, I could catch the cork in my teeth.”

“This isn’t a good day?”

“It’s dark and I’m a trifle tipsy. So try to miss me.”

Jason pulled off the wire basket, clamped the bottle against his chest, and began to twist the knob of cork. It squeaked quietly. He aimed well in front of Celia’s face and gave the cork a final turn. With a hollow pop, it shot past her nose and sailed out the window. He heard her laugh as he rushed the erupting bottle to his mouth, spilling foam down his hand and shirt. He gulped the airy froth and choked.

“You okay?”

A few moments later, he was okay. He took a sip of the champagne, then passed the bottle to Celia. She raised it high and tilted back her head. He watched her throat work as she swallowed. With a sigh, she passed the bottle back to him. “That’s good stuff,” she said.

She faced Jason, sitting sideways and sliding her leg onto the seat. Her knee touched the side of his leg. The inner side of her thigh was turned upward. He followed the pale skin with his eyes and glanced at the patch of shadow beneath the edge of her gown. Then he raised the bottle. He took one swallow, closed his lips and pretended to drink more before handing the bottle back to her.

“Still feeling shivery?” he asked.

“Yessiree. More’n ever.” She took a drink. “Bring any cheese and crackers?”

“Afraid I didn’t think of that.”

“Maybe there’s some in there,” she said, and nodded toward the Oakwood. Then she took another drink. “It is a restaurant.”

“You can’t be hungry.”

“Hungry, all right.” From the way she said it, Jason knew that she wasn’t talking about food. She looked over the seat back. “That’s a blanket there,” she said.

Jason nodded.

“Grab it and follow me.”

Before he could object, Celia slid her leg off the seat, turned away from him, and opened her door.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” he asked as she climbed out.

“I’ve gotta go in there.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Yup.” She swung her door shut.

Jason threw his door open and jumped out. Over the roof of the car, he saw her standing in the moonlight, her back arched, the bottle high as she drank from it.

“I don’t want to go in there,” he said.

She lowered the bottle. “Come on, it’ll be a trip.”

“It might be dangerous.”

“The blanket,” she said. She waved the bottle at him, then walked unsteadily, limping slightly and weaving, to the porch stairs.

Jason grabbed the blanket off the backseat and hurried after her.

She waited for him at the door of the Oakwood. After taking a drink, she handed the bottle to him. “Ladies first,” she said in a trembling whisper. Then she opened the door. Taking hold of Jason’s elbow, she led him inside and shut the door. “Oh God, dark in here.”

“I’ve got matches,” Jason whispered. His heart was sledging.

“We don’ need no steenking matches,” she said with a Mexican accent.

“Don’t you want to see wh—?”

“I like zee dark.” Her left arm went around Jason. He let the blanket fall. He put his arms around her, the champagne bottle in his right hand pressing against her back.

She felt warm, but her body shivered. When they kissed, he realized that even her chin was trembling. Her tongue went into his mouth. Her right hand caressed his rump while her left untucked the back of his shirt and went under it and roamed his back.

He eased his mouth away from her. Her face was a vague pale shape with black holes instead of eyes and a mouth. He didn’t like seeing it this way. “I’ve gotta get rid of the bottle.”

“Polish id off.”

“I don’t want any more.”

“Give.” He brought it to the front. Her hand covered his, then took the bottle. A moment later, he heard her swallowing. He reached through the darkness to the area below her dim face. One hand found a shoulder, the other an armpit. Once he knew what he was touching, he had no trouble locating her breasts. He took them in his hands. Celia stopped swallowing and moaned. She took a quick breath when he gently squeezed her stiff nipples.

The champagne bottle thunked to the floor, startling Jason. He flinched. Celia gasped sharply, “Ah!”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Never mind.”

A hand pressed the front of his pants. He squirmed against it, aching. He felt a small pull, then heard his zipper clicking downward.

He wished he could think. He wanted her. But not here. He wanted to get her out of here, but he wanted to feel her cool fingers on him and he wanted to put his hand through the open side of her gown and follow the smooth warm skin of her thigh upward. And then we’re naked and we spread the blanket and it’s not supposed to be this way. It’s not the plan.

We’re here now, we should go by the plan.

She didn’t reach in. She tugged at his belt, instead. He could hear her breathing heavily as he rubbed her breasts.

“Wait,” he gasped in a husky whisper.

“Wha’?”

“I’ve gotta use the john.”

“Lemme have the matches. I’ll ged the place ready.”

“I’ll need one to find the john.” He took the matchbook from his pocket, peeled out a match and struck it. The brightness hurt his eyes. Celia squinted against the glare.

He gave the matchbook to her, then headed for the alcove at the far end of the bar where the rest rooms were located. He stepped around the card table. The match was hot on his fingertips, so he shook it out. Hands in front of him, feeling the air, he made his way slowly forward.

Behind him, a match snicked. He hurried the rest of the way to the alcove, then looked back. Celia was standing midway between the front door and the corner of the bar, straddle legged, looking down at the blanket. She staggered and almost fell when she bent over to pick it up. With one hand, she shook the blanket open. Very slowly she raised the match and puffed it out. She vanished.

Jason stared into the darkness, waiting for another match to flare. It didn’t happen. Finally, he turned around and felt his way along the wall. He found the door to the men’s room. He turned the handle, stepped inside, and flicked the light switch.

Roland, sitting on the toilet, grinned up at him.