No! her mind screamed. Don't answer it! You'll die if you do… something terrible will happen.
She was powerless against the force that drew her to the door. She knew who it was… she knew exactly who.
The chain was on, and she had added another. She looked at them and suddenly realized how inadequate they were if someone really wanted to come in.
"Who is it?" she called, and waited for the raucous bass voice to reply.
"Leo Rudd. You remember me?"
The chain rattled under her shaking fingers as she unhooked it. When she opened the door she saw his powerful body, rippling with hard muscles, and his dark, evil face split by white teeth as he grinned confidently at her.
"I've been meaning to come up and see how you were getting along since I saw you the other night in the cafe. May I come in? I brought you a house warmer," he added, holding up a brown bag with an obvious bottle in it.
"Oh. Thank you. Won't you come in and sit down?"
His smile mocked her and her words, as if he knew it was all a preliminary to what was going to happen between them. He looked down at her tanned thigh that peeked through her slitted skirt.
"Been getting some sun up on the roof."
"Yes… it's nice. I went up this morning – just now. I just got back," she stammered.
"Well, perfect timing, hmm?"
He looked around, an alert, unreadable smile on his face.
"Looks the same. You haven't changed anything, have you?"
She turned from the refrigerator, her hand on the ice tray.
"No," she answered quickly. "Why should I? I mean, I don't have any right. It's not really mine."
He turned from his perusal of the living room and gave her a frightening glance of intensity that made her suddenly aware of how cold the ice tray was. She tightened her fingers around its frozen edge until her hand grew numb and ached.
Leo's eyes narrowed in speculation as he leaned against the doorjamb and spoke with a chilling softness that frightened her more than if he had shouted a sudden threat.
"Why do you say that, Brenda? It's yours now. You live here, you're paying the rent."
She dropped ice cubes in two tumblers and poured a jigger of scotch over each. As she reached for the things she had found, bar tools and swizzle sticks, it terrified her that her movements were so automatic. I know where everything is… I live here. I can find things and turn on the lights in the dark because everything is so familiar now.
"Well," she began, "a sublet place…"
He interrupted her smoothly, so that it was not obvious. "You might inherit it all, you know. I think Ginny's given up the ghost."
She whirled on him and gasped.
"What do you mean? Has something happened to her?"
He laughed. "No, I didn't mean that. Forgive me if I frightened you. I wouldn't want you to think there was a hex on this place. That would make me a very bad real estate man, wouldn't it?"
He shoved himself away from the doorjamb with a lazy movement and came closer to her, leaning on his elbow on the top of the refrigerator door.
"I merely meant that Ginny is pretty kooky and might not be back. It wouldn't surprise me in the least." He shrugged. "She took off for the Coast on her broomstick and nobody's heard from her since."
Brenda stepped back, nearly overturning the filled glasses.
"Broomstick…" she murmured, as if to herself.
He laughed loudly. "You can be sure it has apehanger handles, though. Ginny's trendy. So trendy that she's probably being a real California girl now. Putting things in her mouth and doing the commune and natural foods bit. So you might fall heiress to her New York phase."
He swept a hand around the room. "You get her Village life. Leopard bedspread, posters, incense. Don't look for any old green stamps, though. The leather belt shops don't give them."
Brenda shivered. Ginny was in another world; she had exchanged one life for another, and I've got the old one. She's cast a spell on me. A trendy California girl who puts things in her mouth. Where was she now? She had to be found, so that she could come back and take her life away from me!
She reached for the glasses and saw that they were sweating, the droplets of melting frost slithering down in steady streams. Suddenly she was aware of her cunt as it began to prickle between her legs. She could feel her vaginal channel dilate with hot, demanding lust, forcing on her an awareness of its emptiness. A throbbing began high up in her stretching cunt and the lips of her pussy opened until she felt as if she held, something plump and alive squeezed between her thighs. A delicious, crawling sensation settled over her rectum. She clenched her rounded buttocks together and held her muscles tight as the delightful itching scurried through her crotch. She wanted to thrust out her hips and rub her swelling cunt against something hard; rub and twist and squirm in squalling feline heat.
Leo stepped close to her, his eyes knowing and bright, and reached for one of the glasses. She drank a sip from hers, her hand shaking as she held his glance. He swallowed quickly, his gaze locked on hers, then reached out and clicked his glass against her own.
His hand shot out and entered the slit of her skirt, clasping her rounded thigh, his strong fingers sending fire through her already burning crotch. Brenda's head lolled drunkenly on her neck as she leaned back against the counter and moved her feet wide apart. The briefest of mini slips lay under her slitted midi and Leo brushed up under it, his fingers caressing the soft inner thighs. The crotch of her pantyhose was soaked through with slick female sex juices. Through her partially opened eyes she saw him smile in triumph as he felt the gushing evidence of her horniness.
His eyes, black as jet, burned with excitement. "I knew you were the woman for me the minute I saw you," he rasped. "I'm going to make you mine, baby, all mine. You're going to belong to me, Brenda, you understand? I want you for my own, my very own!"
A thousand pinpoints of searing lust pricked at her groin as his deft fingers traced their way up the middle of her thatch, rubbing the silken material of her hose into her cloven pussy. He pulled the hose impatiently over her white belly and yanked them down to her knees as he pressed her back against his supporting hand, arching her body sharply so that her mound jutted obscenely out in a wet, begging pout. He rubbed her mound with tantalizing hardness, knitting his fingers through the bush of golden hair. Brenda felt the blood rush into her stiffly swelling, aching pussy until the gaping coral lips began a hungry suckling tremor.
He was rubbing and pressing his big brown hand into her belly, pushing his hard fingers against the rushing pulses of her pelvic arteries. She had never been so fuckhungry hot in all her life! His knowing hand, instead of wallowing in her wet cunt, tormented her by its pressure against her throbbing belly, as though he wanted to force the lust-maddened onrush of her blood to the bursting point. A's his fingertips traced the creased line that divided her thigh from her torso she jerked back, howling as he struck a sensitive nerve. He chuckled deep in his throat and continued the sadistic stroking.
"I like to take my time when I fornicate, honey. That way you'll always come back for more. A good, lazy fuck is the best, an all-night job."
He dragged her into the living room and stripped her quickly and expertly, taking the time to fold her clothes neatly over a chair. She stared at him, feeling oddly locked in place as though his precise movements exercised some kind of control over her in spite of the raging heat his touch had evoked. His valet-like neatness seemed to be a signal to her that said, "Wait… Don't move until I give the command." She suddenly thought of a confident, smiling lion tamer dangling a whip over the head of a clawing, howling cat, a dangerous feline creature whom he did not fear because it was completely in his spell.