Come Out Tonight 1 страница

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Richard Laymon

LEISURE BOOKS NEW YORK CITY

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-one

Chapter Forty-two

Chapter Forty-three

Chapter Forty-four

Chapter Forty-five

Chapter Forty-six

Chapter Forty-seven

Chapter Forty-eight

Chapter Forty-nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-one

Chapter Fifty-two

Chapter Fifty-three

Chapter Fifty-four

Chapter Fifty-five

Chapter Fifty-six

Chapter Fifty-seven

Chapter Fifty-eight

Chapter Fifty-nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-one

Chapter Sixty-two

Chapter Sixty-three

Chapter Sixty-four

Chapter Sixty-five

Chapter Sixty-six

Praise

Other Books By

Chapter One

On his knees, Duane braced himself up with one arm. With the other, he reached out past Sherry’s face. She heard his clock radio scoot on the shelf of the headboard.

“Putting on some music? ” she asked.

“Getting this, ” he said.

She looked up at the plastic packet and said, “Ah. Good thinking. ”

As he ripped it open, Sherry gently glided her hands up and down his wet thighs. Only a few minutes earlier, she had toweled him dry after their shower. But now he was sweaty—and so was she. Her hands made soft wet sounds as they slid against his skin.

We must be nuts, she thought, doing this on the hottest night of the year. And at his place. But she supposed the heat was probably what had brought them to this. On all those other nights, she’d managed to control herself and call a halt before it went this far.

Tonight, she had no intention of stopping.

She wanted him. Wanted him all over her, hot and wet and slippery, wanted him inside her.

Maybe the heat had something to do with that.

Maybe a lot.

The unusually hot night. And Duane’s apartment building without air conditioning.

His windows were wide open. The hot Santa Ana winds blew in, caressing her, filling the room with the acrid aromas of brush fires somewhere in the distance.

It was the sort of night that made you feel restless and vulnerable and maybe a little frightened…the sort of night that stirred desires.

“Here we go. ” He slipped the rubber disk out of its wrapper, then waved it at Sherry with a crooked smile. His face was red and sweaty. “Now if I can just figure out what to do with the damn thing…”

“Allow me, ” Sherry said.

“Really? ”

“Sure. ”

“Okay. ” He handed it to her. “I never…used the things with…you know, with Bev. She was on the pill and…”

His voice stopped as Sherry took hold of him with one hand.

“I’m not so good at this sort of thing myself, ” she said. “All I know is, you don’t unroll them first. ”

“You’re probably right. ”

Still holding Duane’s penis with her left hand, she used her right to push the disk against its head. Fingers encircling the rubbery ring, she started to roll it down. The latex felt sticky. It crackled.

“Is it supposed to be like this? ” Duane asked.

“I don’t think so. ”

“It feels…awfully tight. ”

“You’re too big for it. ”

He laughed softly.

With little more than an inch of him covered, it suddenly stopped unrolling. “Looks like we’ve got a problem, ” Sherry said.

“Oh, great. ”

“How old is this thing? ”

“Twenty-eight. ”

Sherry laughed. “Not this thing, ” she said. “This thing. This rubber. ”

“Oh. I don’t know. A few years, I guess. ”

“A few years? ”

“I never had much use for them, so…”

Sherry used force. Instead of coming unstuck, it split. The rubbery ring slid all the way down, leaving him capped with a flimsy, pale toque.

She laughed, shook her head and said, “Shit. ”

Duane laughed, too. Then he sighed. “Maybe it’s a sign. ”

“A sign, all right. ” Still laughing, she plucked off the latex cap.

The laughing stopped as she rolled the ring up his thick erection.

“I guess it’s not that funny, ” she whispered.

Leaning forward, he took hold of her shoulders. He stared down into her eyes. “I want you so badly, ” he said.

“I want you, too. ” Trying to smile, she said, “The sooner, the better. ” She tossed the remains of the condom aside. “Maybe we’ll have better luck with the next one. ”

He grimaced. “I don’t have any more. ”

“You’re kidding. ”

“Afraid not. ”

“That was it? ”

“I’m sorry. ”

“Ah, that’s all right, ” she said. She resumed caressing his thighs.

“Do you have any? ” he asked.

“I wish. ”

“Can we…you know, do it anyway? ”

Sherry shook her head. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea. ”

“I’m perfectly healthy. I won’t give you anything. I mean, I haven’t…Nobody since Bev. That was two years ago, and I’ve had regular checkups, so…I won’t give you AIDS or anything. ”

“I know, ” she said.

But she didn’t know. Not for sure.

I’m not going to risk my life, she thought.

She said, “You wouldn’t want me to get pregnant, would you? ”

“That’s not very likely, is it? ”

“Likely enough, tonight. ”

He shook his head slowly from side to side.

“There’s always tomorrow night, ” Sherry said.

“But I don’t want to wait. ”

“The anticipation will make it all the better. ”

“I’ve already been anticipating it for weeks. ”

“I know, I know. Me, too. ”

If we’d just done a little advance planning along with all that anticipation…

“Just go to the store tomorrow, ” Sherry said, “and pick u

p a good supply of the things. Then come over to my place tomorrow night. I’ll make us a nice dinner and we’ll try again. How does that sound? ”

From the look on his face, she knew that it didn’t sound great.

“Just one more night, ” she said. “It won’t kill us to wait. ”

“I know, I know, but…Whoa! ”

“What? ”

He suddenly laughed. “I’m so stupid. ”

“What? ”

“I’ll go to the store now! The Speed-D-Mart must carry condoms, don’t you think so? ”

“It probably does. ”

“And it’s open all night. ”

“You don’t want to go over there at this hour, ” Sherry said.

He glanced at his clock radio. “Only five after ten. ”

“Eight’s too late to be going to that place. ”

“I’ll just run in, run out. Be back in ten minutes. ” He ducked down and kissed her on the mouth. Then he crawled backward, pausing along the way to kiss her naked body half a dozen times before climbing off the bed. “You just wait right here, ” he told her.

He hurried into the living room.

“Don’t forget your clothes, ” Sherry called after him.

“Thanks for the reminder. ”

She crawled out of bed. Standing in the doorway, she watched Duane hop as he pulled a sock onto one foot.

“Don’t fall and hurt yourself, ” she said.

“Time is of the essence. ”

“I’m not going anywhere, ” she told him. “Unless you

want me to go with you. ”

He snatched his shirt off the floor. Darting an arm into one sleeve, he said, “You aren’t dressed. ”

“I could get dressed. ”

“Wouldn’t want you to do that. ” Into a sleeve shot his other arm. The shirt flapping behind him, he ran to the end of the couch and plucked his underwear off the cushion.

“I could just throw something on real fast, ” Sherry said.

He ducked and stepped into the briefs. “No, no, don’t. Whatever you do, don’t throw something on. Stay just like you are. ”

Leaning sideways against the door frame, Sherry put her weight on one leg and let her hip shift out. She smiled and shook her head as Duane sprang into his shorts.

So cute, she thought. Just like an overgrown kid.

Though the air was hot, her skin suddenly grew crawly with goosebumps.

What if something happens to him?

“You really don’t have to do this, ” she said. “It’s not a good idea. Things happen at night. ”

Done buttoning his shorts, he jerked the zipper up. “I’ll be fine. ” He fastened his belt.

“Why don’t you just take everything off and we’ll both get back into bed? ”

“Nope. ” He looked around, frowning, then gasped “Ah! ” as he spotted his other sock. It was on the floor near a leg of the coffee table, half hidden under Sherry’s skirt. He rushed over to it. As he pulled it on, he said, “I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone. ”

“Right. Unless you get creamed by a drunk driver or shot in a stick-up or mugged by one of those bums that’s always hanging out in that parking lot. ”

“Not gonna happen. ” He dropped onto the couch and started to put his shoes on. “Want me to pick up anything else while I’m there? ”

“No, thanks. ”

“Potato chips? Jerky? ”

“Why don’t you just stay here? Forget about the condoms, okay? Let’s just go ahead without them. ”

He made a face at her. “Now you tell me. ”

She shrugged.

Shaking his head, he stood up. “I’m already dressed. ”

“That’s easily corrected. ”

She eased away from the door frame and walked toward him.

He watched her breasts, then met her eyes. “I’d better go ahead and pick ’em up, ” he said.

“You don’t have to. ”

“We might regret it if I don’t. ”

“I’ll take my chances. ” She reached out and began to unbutton his shirt.

He took hold of her wrists. “It’ll be better this way, ” he said, then pulled her forward, raising and spreading her arms until her body pressed against him. He kissed her on the mouth. “Back in ten minutes, ” he whispered. “If I’m late, just start without me. ”

As Sherry grinned and shook her head, he let go of her and turned around and hurried to the door.

Chapter Two

It’s silly to worry, Sherry told herself. He will be back in ten minutes.

Maybe fifteen.

Hordes of people go to convenience stores day and night. Most of them never run into anything worse than an annoying beggar.

He was right to go.

Thank God I didn’t talk him out of it, she thought. My luck, I probably would’ve ended up pregnant.

Probably?

She let out a humorless huff.

Thirsty, she stepped over to the coffee table. She picked up the glass that she’d used for her Pepsi. The ice cubes had melted, leaving half an inch of amberhued water at the bottom of the glass. She drank it. Though the mixture looked somewhat repulsive, it tasted cool and sweet.

Keeping the glass, she bent down and picked up the popcorn bowl. It was empty now except for two or three dozen unpopped kernels and a scattering of puffy white crumbs—all that had remained by the time they finished watching the video of GI Jane.

In the kitchen, Sherry set the bowl on the counter. She ran a fingertip across its slick, grainy bottom. Her finger came out coated with congealed butter and salt. She licked it clean, licked her lips, then stepped to the sink and filled her glass at the faucet.

The tap water was neither sweet nor cold.

She stepped over to the refrigerator, opened its freezer compartment and took out a handful of ice cubes. She dumped them into her glass and shut the freezer.

Stirring the cubes around with her forefinger, she stepped out of the kitchen.

How long has he been gone? she wondered.

Probably two minutes.

Just about time enough to get downstairs to the building’s parking lot.

This is going to be a long wait.

She took her finger out of the water and slipped it into her mouth. It felt very cold. After a few seconds of sucking, however, it was warm again.

She took a long drink.

Lowering the glass, she sighed.

Now what? she wondered.

She stepped around to the front of the couch, sat down, took another drink, then leaned forward and eased her glass down on the coffee table. She picked up the clicker and turned the TV on.

Flipping from channel to channel, she found that most of the local stations had dropped their regular programming to cover the brush fires.

They oughta cover them, she thought; they started them.

She doubted that any of the local newscasters had actually applied matches or lighters to the dry hillsides, but she was certain they’d put the idea into the heads of the firebugs. Every year, they never failed to announce when conditions were ripe for blazing disasters. And the fires would start immediately, as if every pyromaniac in southern California had been biding his time in front of the TV, patiently awaiting the official word to begin.

Ready. Set. Gentlemen, start your fires!

Now the local news shows had what they wanted—what they’d begged for.

Every station seemed to have a helicopter circling over bright rows of flame. And crews on the ground standing dangerously close to assorted infernos, interviewing fire-fighters or people who’d just lost their homes or anyone else who might have a story to tell. And anchor teams safe in the studio, eagerly expounding on every aspect of the “worst firestorm ever to hit the southland. ”

She doubted that.

She had learned, long ago, that LA newscasters were masters of hyperbole.

The fires were certainly bad this year. It was inevitable, after all the rain from last season

’s El Niñ o storms. Listening to these people, though, you’d think the Apocalypse had arrived.

“Get some perspective, ” she muttered to the television.

A map filled the screen. She checked the locations of the fires, found them in Malibu, Pasadena, up near Newhall, and several in Orange County. None within ten miles of Duane’s building or her own. Nor were there fires anywhere near her parents’ home.

The clock on the VCR showed 10: 18.

Sherry was glad to see that so much time had passed.

He’s probably in the store by now.

Should be back in five minutes or so.

Though watching television would help the time pass quickly, she didn’t want Duane to walk in and find her sitting naked on the couch, gaping at the boob tube.

How about a little atmosphere? she thought.

She turned off the television, then wandered through the rooms, switching off every light. Duane kept a candle in the bathroom. She lit it, then carried it into the bedroom and placed it on the nightstand.

In the living room again, she picked up her glass and took a drink of the ice-cold water.

10: 22

Any minute now.

She returned to the bedroom. It looked wonderfully romantic in the glow of the candle—golden light fluttering, shadows dancing, the curtains bellowing like wispy windblown nightgowns.

As she sipped more water, she noticed her reflection in the mirror above Duane’s dresser.

She turned and looked at it.

A corner of her mouth tilted upward.

Not bad for an old broad.

The “old broad, ” approaching her twenty-fifth birthday, knew that she appeared more like nineteen.

Nineteen, and a guy.

With her slender build and very short hair, she was often mistaken for a boy—especially when seen from a distance.

Watching herself in the mirror, Sherry figured nobody would likely mistake her for a boy at the moment. The gold hoop earrings wouldn’t count for much—LA was full of guys wearing earrings. But she clearly had breasts. The mounds were small, but nicely round. Her nipples were dark and smooth.

“What a babe, ” she whispered. Smiling, she added, “A babe in heat. ”

Her sweaty body glistened golden in the candlelight as if she’d been rubbed with melted butter.

She took another drink of water, then slid the dripping glass against her left breast. Its icy touch made her gasp and arch her back. As her nipple grew hard, she glided the glass over her other breast.
She rubbed her face with it, then drank the last of the water and filled her mouth with the remnants of the ice cubes. She set her glass down on the nightstand beside the candle.

Bending over the bed, she narrowed her eyes at the clock radio.

10: 25

Any second now.

She crawled on to the bed, flopped over and sprawled out.

“Come and get it, ” she muttered. Squirming, she raised her knees and spread her legs wide. Then she huffed quietly. “Right, ” she muttered.

She lowered her knees, sat up and reached beyond her feet for the top sheet. Holding its edge, she eased down onto her back. Then she swept the sheet high and let it float down. It settled lightly, covering her body almost to the shoulders.

“Ready when you are, ” she said.

She listened for the sounds of Duane’s approach.

She stood no chance of hearing his car. From here in the bedroom, she probably wouldn’t be able to hear his footsteps in the hallway, either. She might hear his keys when he unlocked the front door. If not, the sounds of the door shutting behind him ought to reach her.

Unless he gets sneaky about it.

I probably will hear him come in, she told herself.

But when?

For a long time—or what seemed like a long time—Sherry lay still and listened for him. She heard mostly noises made by the blowing wind. While the curtains lifted and flapped in near silence, the wind outside sounded like a tribe of demented phantoms roaming the neighborhood—moaning, hissing and howling. Wind-grabbed objects bumped and clattered and shook, while others rolled along walkways or streets. Car alarms beeped and tooted. From nearby and far away came the cries of sirens.

What a night, Sherry thought. Sounds like all hell is breaking loose out there.

Why isn’t he back yet?

Rolling onto her side and pushing herself up with an elbow, she looked at the clock.

10: 31.

She flopped down again.

She stared at the ceiling. It shimmered in the candlelight.

What time did he leave, anyway? Ten after? Something like that.

He’s been gone more than twenty minutes.

Sherry suddenly felt too hot. Her head was half-buried in the pillow’s moist heat. Her back and buttocks were sticking to the bottom sheet. The top sheet, resting lightly atop her body, walled her away from the caresses of the wind.

She cast the sheet aside and sat up.

And sighed as the wind drifted over her skin like warm, dry hands.

She crossed her legs and straightened her back and rested her hands lightly on her thighs.

I’ll just sit like this till I hear him come in.

She sat there and waited. The roaming wind dried her sweat. She felt almost cool—except for her rump, which was pressed against the hot, moist bottom sheet.

After a while, she longed to look over her shoulder at the clock.

She resisted the urge.

She kept on resisting the urge.

He’ll be here any second, she told herself.

Finally, she looked.

10: 41.

She grimaced.

He’s been gone half an hour, she thought. The damn store’s only two blocks away. He could’ve walked and gotten back ten minutes ago.

Something went wrong.

He was in a wreck or walked into a hold-up or…

Wait!

She suddenly huffed out a laugh.

I know what went wrong, she told herself. He got to the Speed-D-Mart all right, no trouble, but found out that they didn’t carry condoms. So he headed off for some other all-night store. LA was jammed with convenience stores, mini-marts and even grocery stores that remained open twenty-four hours a day.

Some guys might give up and come back empty-handed, but not Duane.

He won’t come back till he has them.

This might be a very long wait, she thought.

To free her buttocks from the moist heat, she dropped forward. She caught herself with stiff arms. On hands and knees, her rear end stroked by the soothing wind, she resumed her wait.

Thing is, she thought, he knows I expected him back in ten or fifteen minutes. Would he really take off for another store? At the very least, wouldn’t he call and let me know what’s going on?

Maybe, maybe not.

He’s not always the most considerate guy in the world.

Not very long ago, he’d shown up at her apartment almost an hour late. His excuse? He’d been stuck in traffic on the way home from work.

Thing is, he had a car phone. He could’ve called, told her not to expect him on time.

She hadn’t bothered to get on his case about it.

I’m his friend, not his mother.

Was tonight just another example of such thoughtless behavior?

Maybe it’s more than that, she thought. Maybe he’s late on purpose to punish me, teach me a lesson. This is what happens when you send me out in the middle of the night for condoms.

He wouldn’t be that low, would he?

You never know.

Duane’s not like that.

If he is like that, she thought, it’s better to find out now.

He probably decided to try one more store. What’s five or ten more minutes? But maybe that store was farther away than he thought…

From somewhere outside, somewhere a block or two blocks or maybe even five blocks away, came a bang.

It might’ve been a door slamming.

It might’ve been the backfire of a car.

It might’ve been a large firecracker.

But Sherry thought it sounded mostly like a gunshot.

Chapter Three

Though this neighborhood on the west side was fairly safe by Los Angeles standards, a day rarely went by without Sherry hearing a few mysterious bangs. If they seemed to come from nearby, she might look out a window. If very nearby, she might hurry away from the windows and duck with her back against a wall. Usually, however, she did nothing.

For the most part, the bangs were simply background noise. Like sirens and car alarms and police helicopters and screams, they were of little importance unless they happened in front of your face.

Or unless your boyfriend was out there on an errand.

And late returning.

Had the blast come from the direction of the Speed-D-Mart?

Sherry couldn’t tell. All outside noises seemed to be entering through the open windows on the other side of the bedroom.

It probably wasn’t even a gunshot, she told herself. And if it was, it might’ve come from just about anywhere. The chances of Duane being the target were enormously slim.

But where is he?

On her hands and knees, Sherry turned her body until she could look back and see the clock radio on the headboard.

10: 47.

Time sure flies when you’re waiting for someone.

Especially when you’re afraid he might’ve gotten killed or something.

“He’s fine, ” she muttered. He’ll come waltzing in with a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Maybe reasonable to him.

How can he do this to me?

He’d better have a good explanation.

She turned around completely, crawled to the corner of the bed, leaned forward and puffed out the candle. The room fell dark except for the ambient light from the windows. She climbed off the bed and made her way to the door.

In the bathroom, she stepped to the sink. She turned on the cold water, bent over, and splashed her face. It felt very good, so she ducked lower and cupped water onto her head.

Maybe I should take a shower.

A nice, cool shower would feel great—and she could easily make it last fifteen or twenty minutes. By the time she finished, Duane would certainly be back from the store.

Or wherever the hell he went.

But she had already taken a shower tonight—with Duane after watching the GI Jane video. Taking anothe

r so soon…

She suddenly found herself thinking about the look and feel of Duane as he’d stood with her under the hot spray. She remembered the longing in his eyes, the taste of his open mouth, the slippery caresses of his urgent hands, the stiffness of his penis pushing against her, rubbing her, nudging her, prodding her as if hoping to endear itself and find a snug home.

We should’ve just done it there in the shower, she thought.

But I had to insist on the bedroom.

And a condom.

And now he’s gone.

Sherry turned off the faucet. She stepped away from the sink, found her towel and pulled it off the bar. It was still damp. She used it on her dripping head and face, then stood in the near darkness and mopped the sweat off the rest of her body.

As dry as she was likely to get, she hung up the towel.

In the living room, she turned toward the television.

The red numbers of the VCR looked very bright.

10: 53.

Gone about forty minutes.

By the faint light from the windows, Sherry made her way toward the kitchen. The carpet ended. The tiles of the kitchen floor felt a little slippery under her bare feet. Careful not to fall or bump into anything, she stepped over to the wall phone.

Call information, maybe. Get the Speed-D-Mart’s number. Maybe somebody over there can tell me what’s going on.

She took hold of its handset and raised it to her ear.

Silence.

It’s dead?

Oh, great.

What if somebody cut the lines?

She’d seen that sort of thing countless times in movies and TV shows—but she supposed it rarely happened in real life.

With the Santa Anas howling outside, the probable culprit was the wind. Falling branches must’ve taken out some phone lines.

Duane might’ve tried to call.

But where is he?

Sherry hung up.

Phone or no phone, his destination was only two blocks away.

She returned to the living room.

10: 56.

She turned on a nearby lamp. The brightness hurt her eyes and made her squint. Not waiting for her vision to adjust, she squatted between the couch and coffee table and picked up her panties. She pulled them on.

Next, she put on the short, pleated skirt that Duane had given to her last week. “In case you ever feel like dressing like a woman, ” he’d told her. To which she’d responded, “Looks like you want a cheerleader. ”

To which he’d said, “It’ll sure cheer me up. ”

This was the first night she’d worn the skirt for him.

And now I’m stuck with it, she thought as she slid its zipper up.

She found her blouse on the floor behind the couch, right where she’d tossed it. Normally, she wore T-shirts and jeans when she wasn’t at work. But you can’t wear a T-shirt with a bright yellow cheerleader skirt, so she’d bought a special blouse for tonight. Lightweight and slippery, it was gaudy with scenes of jungles and lagoons and tropical birds.

As she fastened its buttons, she hurried around the couch. She picked up her socks and sneakers, then sat down long enough to put them on.

Her denim handbag was on the seat of a nearby chair. She grabbed it by the strap and hurried to the door. She paused at the door.

Have I got everything?

Clothes, purse, what else is there?

That should about be it.

She looked at the clock.

10: 59.

Standing there, she waited for 11: 00.

Did I blow out the candle?

Yes.

11: 00.

Sherry opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The entire length of the corridor was deserted. She eased the door shut until it latched, then tried the knob.

Satisfied that the door was locked, she headed for the stairway. All the doors along the way were shut. No sounds of people or televisions or music came from inside the rooms, but she could hear the wind howling and battering things outside the building.

What if nobody’s here?

What if everybody has vanished?

“Oh, that’d be a hoot, ” she muttered.

And extremely unlikely.

This is real life, she reminded herself. Everybody doesn’t vanish in real life.

Not often enough to worry about.

Besides, she told herself, I heard sirens. And a gunshot. Maybe. They require the presence of people. So I’m not the last person left on Earth, or even in Los Angeles.

Maybe just in this building.

Smiling and shaking her head, she hurried down the stairway. In the lobby, she opened a side door and trotted down a flight of stairs to the underground parking lot.

Most of the spaces were occupied by cars and sport utility vehicles.

Duane’s assigned space was empty. His van was gone.

Okay, Sherry thought. He hasn’t made it back, but he got away from the building all right.

Probably.

From where she stood, she saw the security gate blocking the driveway to the street. She had no way to activate it, so she returned to the lobby.

As she pushed open one of the front doors, the wind caught it and tried to rip it from her grip. She held on tight, got outside, and leaned her back against the door to force it shut.

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