The Cellar

CHAPTER NINETEEN

From the window of the end cabin, Roy watched Donna, Sandy, and two men enter Cabin 12. Her car was parked in front of 9. He guessed that 9 was her place, and 12 the men’s.

That simplified matters. Sometime during the night, Donna and Sandy would return to their cabin alone. Maybe in five minutes. Maybe not for hours. But sometime. Regardless, he would wait until after dark.

He looked around at the two beds, at the two girls tied to them and gagged. The older one, the owner’s kid, was still sniffing. He figured she was sixteen, maybe seventeen. He didn’t know her name. She’d been good, though. She’d been wet and slippery, and Roy suspected that she’d enjoyed herself. He’d spent nearly an hour with her after the four had walked off, probably for dinner. She hadn’t started crying until afterward. Guilt, more than likely.

He wondered why no one had come around looking for her. Maybe her folks were used to her disappearing.

Roy lifted an edge of the curtain, and looked again at Cabin 12. The door was still shut.

He looked around at the girls. Right now, he didn’t want either of them. Still, they were nice to look at, lying there naked and powerless in the darkening room.

Later, maybe he could find time to take one of them.

Which?

Hell, he had lots of time to think about that. Lots of time.

He got up. The older girl’s eyes watched him closely as he approached her. He bent over the bed. He traced a circle around her right nipple, watching the dark skin pucker and grow rigid. “Like that?” he whispered, smiling down at her.

Then he jerked the pillow out from under her head, took it to the chair beside the window, and used it to cushion the straight wooden back. He sat down and leaned against the pillow. That felt much better.

He inched open the curtain and continued his watch.