Eyes (20 page)

CHAPTER 23

“An ex-hooker, huh?” Mark grinned at the phone as his buddy told him about the woman he was bringing to the party. “Come on, Jerry. There's no way she can do all that!”

But Jerry went right on talking, swearing that everything he said was the gospel truth. “Okay, Jerry. If she's half as good as you say, I want first crack at her.”

Mark began to frown as they negotiated. Jerry was willing to let him have the ex-hooker first, but he wanted first crack at Mark's date. That might just present a problem. Jerry was a little rough around the edges, and it took an experienced woman to handle him.

“That'd be okay with me, Jerry.” Mark tried to be tactful. “But I don't know how she'll feel about it. She's never been to one of our parties before, and I thought we'd break her in easy.”

When Jerry started to argue, Mark's frown deepened. Jerry had a hair-trigger temper, and he didn't want to get the big guy mad.

“Okay. You can have her. But you've got to promise to give her a couple lines of coke before you take her back to the playroom. A drink couldn't hurt, either. Get her bombed and she'll loosen right up. And no rough stuff, huh? You don't want her to go off screaming to the cops.”

Jerry seemed willing to listen to reason, and Mark was relieved. “Sure, she's coming. I wouldn't shit you, man. She's gonna be late, but I gave her the address and she said she'd be there before ten.”

Mark was grinning as he hung up. His friends were eager to meet his newest discovery, and he'd promised to share her. She might not like it at first. Some of his buddies were into some pretty weird stuff, but Jerry had promised to get her bombed out of her mind. By the time the party was in full swing, she'd be ready for anything anyone suggested.

Mark popped the top on a cold brew and stretched out on the couch to watch the sports channel. They were showing a figure-skating competition, and that really wasn't his thing. The guys looked gay, and the women were skinny, with no tits. Some of the positions they got into were interesting though; Mark wondered how it would be to screw a woman who could bend over backward until her hair touched the ice. Maybe he ought to try to pick up a figure skater. She might have some special talents that would come in handy at one of their parties.

There was a knock on the door, and he got up to answer it. She'd told him she'd drop by to pick up the address before she left for her job interview. He handed over the slip of paper, told her he'd be waiting for her at the party, and closed the door, frowning. It was always risky, sleeping with someone who lived in the same apartment complex, especially because she had his key. If she got mad at him for loaning her out at the party, she might try to get even with him by trashing his place. He'd have the locks changed tomorrow and conveniently forget to give her the new key.

She wouldn't go to the cops. Mark was sure of that. And if she threatened to turn him in for gang rape or some other trumped-up charge, he'd just show her the tape he'd made of her and that would keep her quiet.

Just thinking about the tape made Mark smile. She hadn't suspected he had a hidden video camera in the closet. Women never did. They were much too willing to trust the guy that was banging them. He'd recorded their last session, and it was the best tape he'd ever made. All he had to do was show her a copy and she'd do whatever he wanted.

* * *

Pregnancy definitely had its benefits. Neil grinned as he rolled over and hugged Jill. She probably would have left him over that incident with Lisa, but she'd convinced herself it wasn't right to deprive him of fatherhood. He was happy about the baby. It was another tie that would bind Jill to him. And he really hadn't meant to get it on with Bonnie. She was the one who'd come into his room and surprised him when he'd been dressing.

Bonnie had been good, a little on the dull side, but good nonetheless. Some women were better than others, but he'd never met one who'd been bad. It was a shame Bonnie had suffered an attack of the guilts. They could have gone on for several more weeks. A little love in the afternoon was the ticket to fight off his depression.

Of course there was always Jill. Neil reached out to fondle her breast. She was filling out now, getting the kind of figure that really turned him on.

“Honey? Are you sleeping?” He massaged the back of her neck, just where she liked it the most. They'd gone to bed ridiculously early because she'd told him she was tired.

“No, I'm awake.”

Her voice was breathless, and Neil felt a rush of power. Although it wasn't as exciting as exploring new territories, there was an advantage in knowing precisely what turned her on. “What did the doctor say about making love? It's all right, isn't it?”

“It's fine.” Jill snuggled a little closer, rubbing her body against his. “We only have to be careful the last couple of weeks.”

“And you're not too tired?” He congratulated himself for being so considerate. Except for the error in judgment he'd made with Bonnie, he'd been a model husband.

“I'm not too tired.”

Jill rolled over, granting him better access to the part of her he wanted most, and Neil stroked her lightly with his fingers. It didn't take more than a minute or two before she made the little purring noise that told him she was ready.

“You'd better get on top.” Neil moved her gently so that she was straddling him. “I don't want to hurt you.”

To his surprise, she accepted his excuse without protest. That was something new. She'd always preferred having him on top. As she started to move her hips and ride him, Neil gave a groan of pleasure. They said you couldn't teach an old dog new tricks, but Jill was trying so hard to make their marriage work, she might just be successful.

* * *

Doug bought the woman another drink, but his heart wasn't in it. Why hadn't he told Jill that he loved her on Christmas Eve? If he'd admitted his true feelings and asked her to leave Neil for him, she might have been with him tonight. But he hadn't thought it fair to take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable, and now he was alone and she was still with her husband.

It was all his grandmother's fault for raising him to be a gentleman. Doug frowned as he took another sip of his drink.

“I love this place.” The woman smiled at him. “Everybody here is in the same line of work.”

Doug nodded. She was pretty, with short blond hair and a trim figure. “So you like cop bars?”

“They're comfortable. I used to go to regular bars, but the guys would freak when I told them I was a cop.”

“I guess that's understandable.” Doug tried to think of something to say. He'd forgotten her name. It was Trixie, or Trisha, or something like that, and she'd already told him twice. “I haven't seen you around before. Where do you work?”

“Anyplace they need me. I'm with the school police.”

“The school police?” Doug was surprised. “That's a new one for me. I've never heard of the school police.”

“Most people haven't. We're a branch of the MPD, but we've got our own station. You've probably seen our cars. They're maroon and white, just like the highway patrol, but they don't have the state symbol on the door.”

Doug began to get interested. “So you're like a truant officer?”

“That and a lot of other things. We have full arrest powers on any campus. We can bust drug dealers and vandals, anybody who breaks the law. The only thing we can't do is off-campus pursuit. That's when we have to call you.”

Doug nodded. “It sounds like an interesting job.”

“Not really.” She shrugged. “Most of the time we just provide a presence so the kids won't act up. The only bust I made this month was a ten-year-old tagger, and he was released to his mother's custody. How about you? Have you solved any interesting cases?”

“Not lately.” Doug managed to hide his surprise. He must have told her he was a detective.

“Let's not talk about work.” She reached out to take his hand. “Let's talk about you and me, and what we're going to do tonight.”

This time Doug couldn't hide his surprise. He blinked and stared at the hand on his. “Uh . . . okay. What do you think we should do?”

“We should go to your place and light a fire. And then we should take off our clothes and see what comes up . . . Unless you're married. You're not married, are you?”

“Uh . . . no. I'm not.” Doug stared at her. She seemed serious, and she was very attractive. What was wrong with him? A year ago, he would have jumped at the chance. Now he felt like turning her down and walking out the door.

“Don't tell me. Let me guess.” She looked disappointed at his lack of response. “I picked the wrong guy. You're gay?”

Doug shook his head. “No, I'm not. I just can't take you to my place, that's all.”

“Then you're living with someone?”

“No.” Doug shook his head again. “And don't get me wrong. You're very attractive. But I'm just not looking for someone right now.”

She sighed and managed a smile. “Okay. I guess it's true. All the best ones are taken.”

“Here. Have another drink on me.” Doug left some bills on the bar and slid off his stool. As he buttoned his jacket and went out the door, he realized that she was right. All the best ones were taken. Jill was married, and he wished to hell that he were Neil!

* * *

Connie could hear the party three houses away. The windows were closed, but the laughter and the loud music seemed to seep out through the walls. She'd parked around the corner, in front of a house that was up for sale. The windows were dark, and there was no furniture inside. The owners had already moved. That meant there would be no one to give a description of her or her car.

She looked very different tonight. Her hair was tucked up under a brunette wig, and she was wearing tortoise-shell glasses. Her clothing was casual, a pair of jeans and a dark sweater, which she planned to throw out the moment she returned to her apartment. She was carrying a canvas tote bag with several items inside. A change of clothes, a towel in a garbage bag, and Willy Rossini's Swiss Army Knife.

The front door was locked, and Connie didn't ring the bell. She walked around the house, stepping over the patches of deep snow, then tried the back door. It was locked, but there was enough room between the door and the jamb to slip in one of the sturdier blades and pop the latch open. Willy had been right. His Swiss Army Knife came in handy for a lot of different things.

The kitchen was empty. There was an open bag of chips on the counter, but no other food. Mark had told her about these parties; it was clear no one came to eat. Liquor bottles were lined up on the counter, though, and a bag of ice from the supermarket was in the sink. Connie considered having a shot of vodka for courage, but she decided against it. She wanted a clear head for the task she'd promised to perform for Alan.

The acrid scent of burning pot hung in the air. That was good. If they were drugged out, they wouldn't even notice her. She stepped into the main part of the house, moving slowly and carefully as she approached the living room.

A ring of candles flickered on the coffee table, but there was no other light. In the semidarkness Connie could make out a man and two women on the floor. She didn't recognize the man. They were all so stoned, they didn't even notice she'd come into the room.

Connie ducked back into the hallway. She had to locate Mark. She made her way to the dining room, but he wasn't there, either. Two naked women were sitting at the table, snorting lines of coke. They were so intent on what they were doing, they didn't notice her, either.

A stairway let to the upstairs, and Connie climbed it, into the darkness. She stepped around the couple on the landing and opened the door to the first bedroom.

A large-screen television set up in the corner was showing a porno flick. The couple on the bed wasn't watching. They were too busy indulging in the kind of action on the screen. Connie glanced at the faces of the other men in the room. There were two of them. Neither man was Mark as she backed out of the room and shut the door behind her.

The scene in the second bedroom made Connie flinch. A woman was tied to the bed, and another woman was whipping her. Two men were watching, but neither man was Mark. Connie's hands were shaking as she shut the door and went on to the third bedroom.

The man's face was turned away from her, but Connie recognized him. It was Mark, and he was spread-eagled on the bed. His partner, a blonde with breasts too huge and firm to be natural, was on her hands and knees, straddling him. Mark gave a groan and let his head fall back against the pillows.

They were silent for a moment, then Mark laughed. “Hey, babe. How about untying me now?”

“Not quite yet.” The blonde gave him an impish grin. “I think I'll let you think about me for a while and see what comes up.”

Mark laughed again, and that was when Connie noticed that he was tied to the bed. It was a reversal of what he'd always done to her, and that made Connie feel glad. She stepped out of the room quickly, before Mark could turn her way, and watched through the partially opened door. After a few moments the woman got up and started to leave.

“Hey, babe. Where are you going?” Marks' words were slurred, and Connie knew he was stoned.

“I need another line. You wore me out, big boy.”

“Bring me a hit. Hell . . . bring me two!” Mark started to laugh. “I know a couple of new places we can put it.”

“Okey dokey.”

The blonde was weaving a bit as she headed for the door. Connie stepped back, into the shadows. The blonde didn't glance her way as she started down the stairs, and Connie slipped into the bedroom unnoticed, locking the door behind her.