|
On the dew-wet grass by the poolside, McNary grunted. He
strained against the belt. A security guard stumbled, yawning, around the pool.
The man gaped at McNary.
He scowled, flashed his light in McNary’s reddened eyes.
“Congressman McNary?”
McNary screamed against the rags of his underwear.
“Yes, sir.” The man pulled the cloth out, saw what it
was, and dropped it in disgust.
McNary shouted, “Let me loose, you idiot.”
The man fumbled with the hard wet knot, then, muttering
under his breath, pulled a slender knife from his boot and sliced through it.
Blood shot through his arms; McNary whimpered and struggled up. He snatched out
the man’s gun and staggered into the house.
“Sir,” the man cried out, “My weapon.”
McNary turned on him. “Get the guards out, and be quiet
about it. A prowler’s on the grounds. A dangerous man. He may just be raping
poor Miss Griffin at this very moment.”
“Gawd, Congressman. But . . . but you told us to leave
off the alarms. The senator’s gonna have my head.”
“We may not be too late.”
The man took out his walkie-talkie.
McNary moved through the house and up the stairs. The kid
was with Nina, all right, and it hadn’t been rape. But the little bastard
wouldn’t live to brag about it, either.
He stole into the room, the light of the rising sun turned
the room into shades of red. A whore’s room, he saw and smiled.
“Wake up.”
Arm around Nina, Benny said in a low, clear voice, “I’m
awake, he-ro.”
“Got a smart mouth on you, for a red-nigger, ain’t you
boy?”
Turning his head to stare at McNary, Benny grinned. “You
see a boy in here, man, yo, just get
on your knees and blow him back to mama.”
McNary’s hand smashed over Benny’s mouth. The snub
nosed pistol and a blinding red laser guide replaced the hand.
“Nina?” McNary hissed. “Wake up.” He slapped her on
the side.
To Benny’s sudden jerk of movement and growl he snapped,
“Be real cool, boy. I got a good aim. Six inches or sixty feet, it’s all one
to me.”
“You got a lot of guts, mister, so long as you’re
holding.”
“I got more than you think.”
Nina roused. She rolled against Benny and his arms
tightened around her.
“Mm, Benny, not so tight.”
McNary snarled and choked.
“Wake the hell up, whore.”
Gasping, Nina spun.
“God,” she squealed, clawing the sheet over her
breasts. “What are you doing in here, Connel?”
His mouth worked. Her breasts were small but firm.
“Let me see.”
He motioned with the gun, then smiled at Benny. “Girl,
let me see what you’ve been teasing me with or I’ll blow his red ass away.
Understand?”
Face burning with shame, Nina’s trembling hands pushed
the sheet down.
Benny’s hand jerked it back up.
“Get bent, cum-breath, and beat it the hell out of here,
or I’ll beat you.”
“You talk real high for a redskin boy with a gun under
his nose.”
“I talk righteous like a real man, you fairy. I’ll
shove that piece so far up your ass you’ll have to take us both to the
hospital to remove my arm.” Benny’s face grew savage. “Wanna shit steel
for a month, pimple eater?”
McNary jerked back. His mouth worked, empty of all the
things he wanted to say and couldn’t. “You lightning son of a bitch.” It
was said in awe, and a little fear shook McNary’s voice.
“So my mom always said,” Benny drawled, a cold smile
narrowing his eye. “She took me by the hair one time, shook me hard, and
called me that. I told yeah, you raised me right, Mom, and she laughed and said
she was damned sure she had. Then she slapped my freekin head off the table. She
brags about it, Connel-the-hero. Your mom brag about what a fire eater you
are?” Benny snorted and shoved the gun from his face.
“Beat it, creep, or I’ll beat you.”
Turning his back in contempt of the man, Benny moved over
Nina. He ran his lips over her lips, her eye lids, her cheeks. Benny licked her
ears and she giggled, fighting him, but growing less afraid of the gun.
By the time she was clawing at Benny’s back, urging him
on with tiny, gasping whispers, McNary was sagging to his knees and pleading.
Mrs. Armbruster stepped out of her room and through the
open door to Nina’s. Seeing a gun in a naked man’s hand, she rammed the toe
of her fuzzy pink bunny slipper into his crotch and snatched the gun from his
hand.
Choking on agonized screams, McNary faded down the wall.
Security guards pounded up the stairs. Realizing her
mistake, Mrs. Armbruster was babbling an apology to the congressman. Curled in a
fetal position, McNary whimpered over the damaged done to his manhood.
Taking in the giggles and muttered laughter coming from the
bed, she clutched her throat. Trouble, for certain. She eased her head around to
a position behind them and blinked. Sweat rolled greasy blobs of facial down,
running over the housecoat. She smiled.
Oh, definitely all man. At least until the senator finished
with him.
Grabbing McNay by the arm, she
heaved him out, into the hall and closed the door. Stupid kinderen. That was what locks were for.
“Mrs. Armbruster, there’s a prowler in the house. Is
that him?”
She glanced up at the guard. “No. It’s only poor
Congressman McNary.”
“Geez. Did that perp do that?”
“I . . . it was an accident.” She gave the guard a
sharp look. “Who told you there was a prowler?”
“The congressman. He was the one who told us.”
Another guard hissed from Nina’s door.
“I hear somebody groaning in here.”
Mrs. Armbruster leaped to her feet. “No, wait -”
The door burst open just as Nina arched under a straining
Benny.
Benny collapsed with a groan and Nina stared in shock at
gaping sec. men.
“As you can see,” Mrs. Armbruster told them, her voice
and eyes bright with forced amusement, “Miss Griffin has a . . . shall we say,
an over-night guest.” The skin under the sweat-tracks was a sharp, burning
red, and more of the facial slid off her cheeks. She tore her gaze away from
hard buttocks and sweaty back of the young man in the bed.
The men ran out of the room. She indicated where McNary lay
along the wall, hunched over his groin. “Congressman McNary is indisposed.
Please bring him in to my room.”
Benny snorted a laugh. “God, what a dragon-lady.”
“A regular nanny from hell,” Armbruster said, a cool
smile in her voice. Her eyes tracked down from the ruined face and she shivered.
“Gotta get going.” Benny yawned, an arm around Nina.
“In a minute.” Pulling the sheet over them both, he dozed off, sleeping
through the heat of the day.
He awoke to Nina and a platter of steak and eggs. The steak
was perfect, seared on the outside, still mooing in the middle. Slits had been
cut in it and packed with hot peppers.
“Wow, you can cook? Who knew?”
Eye cocked, she snapped, “Yes. Eat it or wear it?”
He devoured the food, belched, and almost wiped his hands
off on a sheet. He ducked and took the napkin she held. Benny reached for her.
Nina backed away with a shake of her head.
“I’m too sore, Benny.”
“So am I, I guess,” he said, and drew her into the bed.
Nina crawled in bed and snuggled with him.
Twenty-four hours later, a dying sun threw a long shadow
over the garage. Griffin parked the Lamborghini in its nest in his garage. He
got out, hand running over the places where it had been damaged in the wreck at
the crossroads.
“Dammed little bastard,” he said. The shame of a night
in jail still rankled. Men in the other Party whispered and tittered. “Dirty
little breed Indian sunuvabitch. This car is a classic. A treasure. Some day,
Greylov, you and me’ll have it out.”
He strode into the house and up to the master bedroom.
In the act of undressing, he stopped, staring at a
video-cube on the dresser. It held a chip of home-videos. Now long dead, his
wife stood wearing a lacy green gown from another, in some ways better era.
He smiled and said, “Sorry, Tammy, reckon I forgot my
promise.” He caressed the cube and went to check on Nina. His wife’s
laughter was infectious. Her way with people was legendary and far better than
his own gruff ways. More than once she swore to gentle the cowboy in him but
never had, never wanted to, really.
A whimper of noise came from Mrs. Armbruster’s room. He
frowned, then chuckled. She had company. Male, if he knew her. Well, hell, she
took all her shots. Griffin eased open the door of Nina’s room. She lay all a
mess in her bed. He crossed to the curtains and drew them closed, lest the dawn
light awaken his baby girl.
Griffin stood over her, his eyes soft with paternal love.
A hand stuck out of the pile of bedding. Griffin took it,
stroking his thumb over the fingers in the dim light.
Under the sheet, Benny’s eye shot open.
“Sweet-heart? It’s just your old daddy. I wanted to be
sure you were all right, honey.” He tightened his grip on the hand and sighed,
his head drooping. “Poor motherless baby. I do my best, child, but God knows
it’s not enough.”
Shocked, Benny’s only thought was that now he knew what
the rooster felt like as the axe dropped.
Griffin sighed and rambled on.
“Guess I should of remarried, but I love your mama with
all my heart, Honey.” He paused, then in a softer voice said, “I’m sure
glad to see you brought a little playmate home from the Valentine’s Day
party.”
God, did she ever.
Benny started to sweat. He blinked at it, mentally cursed it for burning into
his eye. His face began to itch, getting worse by the minute. He decided to
pray. Well, he tried to. What they had been doing wasn’t exactly Godly, even
in an almost permissive New Age culture.
“I swear, Nina, I’ll make it up for paddling you.”
Griffin’s voice cracked. “But I am your father, little girl, and I need you
to be proud of yourself.”
“Mmph,” Nina groaned, snuggling under Benny’s arm.
“Not again. I’m too sore.” Her tongue washed Benny ribs.
“I promise you, I’ll never hit you again, child.”
Well, Nina was safe. He, on the other hand, was so much
coy-dog bait.
“Would you like to go back to Pine Springs? I know you
miss home as much as I. The Guadalupes’ll be greening now, and the wild
flowers bright in the hills. Jason told me that Iron-Heart is working out to be
a fine young bull.”
Benny heard the man chuckle.
“I never would have figured that scrawny little pet of
your mama’s would turn out to be the one to take all comers in the state fair
black cattle judging. But she did, Nina. I sometimes think she was a better
cattleman than I am. She had her Granddaddy Garcia’s eye.”
"M-hm, Daddy.”
Her teeth nibbled at Benny, one soft, warm hand slid down
his belly to his groin and rubbed in slow, agonizing circles.
At the other end, Griffin stroked Benny’s head through
the sheet.
“Honey? Are you ill? You’re awfully sweaty and hot.”
“No, sir,” the girl mumbled, her lips trailing down
Benny side, kissing away his sanity. She reached her goal and her lips parted. A
grunt squeezed out of Benny throat.
“That’s good, baby. You and your friend have fun
now.”
Benny’s hips jerked. A flower of madness exploded in his
stomach and he gritted his teeth to stop from crying out.
The chair Griffin sat in creaked.
“Well, I got to go to bed.”
Griffin pulled down the sheet, whispering,
“Just a little sugar from my best girl.” His eyes gentle and glowing with a
smile.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
|
