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Table of contents
Peter fit right in, playing with the children and helping cart food in and out of the kitchen. Callie worried the physical affection she shared with Mac might make Peter feel left out or jealous, but he smiled when he caught them exchanging a quick kiss or loving embrace. Peter put up both hands in a gesture of surrender. Callie is different. Never met a woman like her. When Mac and Callie retired at nine thirty, he took a bottle of wine and two glasses up to bed. Sam took a book into the living room. Peter was restless. The darkness of the lake was broken by the light of a full moon.
A cool breeze with a hint of fresh lilacs enticed him outside, so he went for a stroll. He walked down the deck to the lake and thought how romantic to be on the lake in the moonlight with a special woman.
He turned away and went to the left of the house. Curiosity about what was behind it sent him down a narrow path leading from the house to the water meter on the side and beyond. Past the building he stopped to look up at the moon and spied the small deck attached to the master bedroom on the second floor. He saw a tiny table, burning candles and a wine bottle.
And Mac and Callie. They were drinking from wine glasses and undressing each other. Although he knew he should leave, Peter was transfixed. Mac pulled his T-shirt over his head. He reached around and unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts. The shadows hiding her body from his eyes relieved him of guilt from spying. He slid her shorts off and then her panties. She pulled his boxers down. They stood there facing each other naked in the moonlight. Callie reached up to touch his face.
Mac stepped back a little to look at Callie, then he took her in his arms and kissed her and kissed her. They broke to finish their wine. After the wine was gone, Callie stepped toward Mac, running her hands up his chest. Then Mac dropped down to his knees and put his arms around Callie, burying his face in the shadows where her breasts were. Callie threw her head back, her hair blowing slightly in the soft, warm breeze.
Mac stood up, blew out the candles and picked up Callie. He carried her through the narrow door into the bedroom. When they went in, Pete returned to the house.
The Dog Prince by Sharon Henegar
Father and son sat down outside on the deck. Your mother and I were close too.
It was dark but Rex saw an empty table close to the stage. Alan agreed. After they ordered drinks, the music started up again and the girls, who had been on break, came out and began to dance topless. Rex watched as a brunette and a redhead gyrated. But the brunette smiled back at him. He looked her over carefully and liked what he saw. She would be perfect, if she were cooperative. Then he could move in on her. Across town in the hospital, Jay was restless.
Marcia tried to listen and be sympathetic to his feelings, but her emotional reserve was stretched to the breaking point. Her nerves were raw; she hung on to sanity by a thread sometimes, waiting for her beloved Jay to die. On this beautiful day in May, she got home to the frame house with brown shutters and cream shingles at about six in the evening.
The front door was unlocked. She entered cautiously, ready to dial on her cell when she saw him. A tall, strange man was in the kitchen, fixing the sink. She jumped, fear in her eyes. Marcia exhaled a big sigh of relief. The sink had needed fixing for a week at least. Jakub looked to be about fifty years old. He was about six feet and broad-chested, wearing a blue work shirt and jeans. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal large, firm forearms.
His short hair was a warm brown, going to gray.
His face, weathered by time and the elements, had even, handsome features including warm brown eyes. Marcia determined he was no threat. She poured herself a strong vodka and tonic, looked through the mail and switched the television on to the ballgame with barely a nod to Jakub. Jakub worked for another fifteen minutes, then put everything back together.
Marcia made another strong drink, ate some cheese and crackers then climbed up the steep stairs to the bedroom, took her clothes off, fell into bed and passed out. At midnight The Wet Tee Shirt was still rocking. Rex walked in after dropping his cousin at home. The place was dark. There was canned music and two busty women were pole dancing topless. Men were drinking, talking, and ogling the dancers. Rex sat down near the stage and ordered a beer. Being in the mood for sex, he watched the women with interest.
At The Hideaway in Harlem, where he worked for eight years as a bouncer, he only dated waitresses and kitchen help. He rarely had time to connect with other women because he worked six nights a week. He managed to score enough sex to stay reasonably satisfied, but Rex had never been in love. He was thirty-five years old, lucky in blackmail, unlucky in love. Rex looked up to see a topless waitress there to take his order. His gaze slid down her body like a snake, openly evaluating her breasts and hips.
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She stifled a yawn. You dance too?
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