Part 21 (1/2)
Her mouth got in the way. She gave me a kiss, but it wasn't the usual kind-brief and gentle. With this one, she mashed her lips against mine. Her mouth was open and wet, and she was breathing into me. It wasn't a way I'd ever ever been kissed before. been kissed before.
While our mouths were locked together, she took to squirming so that her body rubbed against me. I couldn't help but squirm, myself.
I'd never felt so fired up and strange. The nearest thing was my time with Sue in the alley, but she'd been a stranger and more my own age and we'd had more clothes on and she wasn't half as pretty as Sarah. Sue'd been after my money and such, too, whereas I didn't actually know what Sarah was after.
Taken all around, I felt tight and hot and fit to bust, but awfully confused and ashamed, too.
It went on for a spell, but finally Sarah unclenched me. I thought she was done. I felt awful disappointed, but mighty relieved, too. I wiped my mouth dry and fought to catch my breath.
She wasn't done, though.
She sat up and threw the covers off us. That was fine, for it had gotten mighty warm underneath them. But then she shucked off her nightdress. I could see her plain in the moonlight from the windows. Her skin looked pale as milk, and shadows smudged her face.
Kneeling beside me, she started to slide my nights.h.i.+rt up my legs. I took her by the wrists.
”You'll be so much more comfortable without it,” she whispered.
I felt rather panicky, and searched for a way to call her off. ”The house is simply jammed with people,” I said, and suddenly wondered how come she'd waited for tonight, as we'd been alone in the house for a few days, ever since the bodies had been taken away. Maybe she'd needed this long to work up the gumption. Or maybe she'd only brought me in here to sleep, and hadn't planned on getting so friendly. ”What if someone should walk in?” I asked.
She answered that by climbing off the bed, crossing over to the door and turning the key in its lock. ”Now we're safe,” she said. ”We'll have to be careful when we leave the room tomorrow, is all.”
She came walking back to the bed. She crawled on, but this time she didn't kneel beside me. Instead, she straddled me down near my knees. I could feel the sides of her legs touching my skin. Her thighs were spread wide, and looked smooth as cream. She was dark where they came together. From seeing Trudy, I knew the dark place was hair. Above that, she was all pale and slender, a dot of shadow at her navel, and dark at the tips of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were bigger than Trudy's, bigger than they looked when Sarah had clothes on.
She lifted my hands toward them and leaned in. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were almost out of reach, but not quite. She guided my hands over them. They were warm and moist, and I'd never touched anything so smooth. Not even satin or velvet or silk. The nipples didn't feel smooth. They were rumpled and puckered, with springy centers that stuck out. But something about them stirred me up even more than her smooth parts.
”You've...never been with a woman...have you?” she sort of gasped out.
”Not...in this manner.”
”Squeeze.”
I squeezed. Sarah writhed and moaned. But we were both sweated up pretty good by then, so my fingers slid around when they tightened on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and it put me in mind of Whittle trying to pick up Mary's breast off the floor, and how it was all b.l.o.o.d.y and slipped out of his hand. Before I had a chance to stop myself, I jerked my hands back as if they'd gotten scorched.
Sarah flinched as if I'd struck her. ”Trevor?” Her soft voice sounded confused, hurt.
”I'm awfully sorry,” I said.
She said it again. ”Trevor?” All forlorn.
”They're lovely bosoms. Truly.” To prove it, I reached out for them. But my hands stopped short. I brought my arms down to my sides. ”It's not at all your fault,” I murmured.
She gazed at me for a spell, not saying anything. Then she swung her leg clear and tumbled off. She rolled onto her back, pulled her pillow down and covered her face with it.
She just lay there sprawled in the moonlight, silent, motionless except for her breathing. Wasn't long, though, before she commenced to sob and whimper. Her misery just tore at my heart. But the way her b.r.e.a.s.t.s shook filled my head with more thoughts of Whittle. I couldn't help it, and even pictured him crouching over Sarah, slicing them off, cupping them up in his hands.
I hadn't laid eyes on him for months, yet here he was, tormenting me and Sarah both.
She'd had too much grief already. She didn't deserve this. I shut my eyes to keep them from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and stretched my arm across her belly and patted her side. She went stiff for a bit. Then she took hold of my wrist. I reckoned she was about to hurl it away, but all she did was hang on. Her belly kept jumping under my arm.
Finally, she calmed down. She sniffed and let out a sigh. Through her pillow, she said, ”Oh, Trevor. You're such a dear. Will you ever forgive me?”
”Forgive you? For what?”
”For making such a fool of myself.”
”You've done no such thing.”
She let go of my wrist. But I kept my arm across her and caressed her side.
”I'm not...I've only been with a man but once. And that was eight years ago. Ever since then, I've always behaved...like a lady. Until tonight.”
”You're a splendid lady,” I told her.
”Little better than a s.l.u.t,” she said. This time, her voice wasn't m.u.f.fled. I opened my eyes and saw that her head was turned toward me, the pillow hugged to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”You had every reason to be disgusted.”
”Oh, but I wasn't. Not at all. Quite the contrary.”
”You needn't fib to me.”
”I found it all quite wonderful until...”
”Until?”
”Well...” It wasn't something I much cared to tell her about. My mouth got dry, and I could feel myself blus.h.i.+ng all over.
”Please,” she said.
”It's rather unpleasant. Sickening, actually.”
”Trevor, tell me.”
There seemed to be no way around it. So I decided to tell her the truth. ”I'm afraid I've had some rather rum experiences in the matter of ladies' chests.”
She huffed out some air. It sounded very much like a sort of laugh. ”What?”
”Whittle. Remember the murderer I told you about when I first arrived?”
”The man who stole Saber.”
”Yes. Whittle. He cut the b.r.e.a.s.t.s off two women. I saw them afterward.”
”Dear Lord!” she gasped.
”When I...squeezed yours...I couldn't help but remember.”
”Oh, my Lord. Oh, Trevor.”