Part 2 (1/2)

At least she can't see my face, he thought.

And then he was lost in the growing ache of need. Images flashed through his mind of Laveda writhing in the firelight, her skin glossy, her firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s tipped with rigid nipples.

Her hands spread his b.u.t.tocks. She pushed a finger in, and he burst with release. She sucked hard as he pumped inside the tight wetness of her mouth. After he was done, she continued to tug at him for a few moments.

Then her head lowered. Her eyes were shut. She licked her lips.

Dukane crawled forward. Looking back, he saw her curl onto her side and reach out for the foot of a nearby girl. The girl, astraddle an older man, freed herself from his embraces and scurried toward Laveda.

He looked for Alice, and found her in the same place, still gasping under the fat man. He hurried to them. The fat man was grunting and pumping, his rump shaking like Jell-O.

Dukane pinched his carotid artery, felt him go rigid for a moment, then limp. He rolled the man off Alice, and took his place.

She smiled languidly. Her hands stroked his back. Her heels caressed his rump. She was hot and slick beneath him. She s.h.i.+vered as Dukane gnawed the side of her neck.

He pushed himself to his hands and knees. Alice clung to his neck, at first, when he started to crawl forward. Then her grip loosened. She fell to the ground and he kept crawling. Her hands trailed down his belly as he pa.s.sed over her. They fondled his p.e.n.i.s.

Dukane lowered his head to look at her. ”Ride me,” he said.

Alice made a husky laugh. Then she rolled over and climbed onto Dukane. She straddled him, thighs hugging his hips, b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his back, arms wrapping his chest. ”Giddyap,” she whispered.

He crawled past several squirming piles of bodies. Once, Alice reached out to squeeze a looming breast and fell from Dukane's back. She quickly remounted.

Dukane continued forward.

”My turn,” Alice whispered in his ear.

”Huh?”

”You ride me.”

Dukane dropped to his elbows. She slid forward. Dukane climbed onto her back, but kept his feet on the ground for support. With one hand, he gripped her hair. He raised her head and pointed her toward the bushes. With his other hand, he slapped her rump. She whinnied and started to move.

Dukane walked, keeping most of his weight off her back while he guided her away from the group. At the edge of the clearing, she halted. She began to chew the leaves of a nearby bush.

Hunching low, Dukane pressed himself to her back. His right arm reached under her and caressed a breast. His left hand pinched her carotid. She started to collapse. He threw her over and they rolled together under the sheltering bushes.

For a long time, Dukane lay motionless on top of the girl. He watched the crowd.

Apparently, the disappearing act had drawn no attention.

He climbed off Alice. Staying low, he dragged her deeper into the undergrowth. When they were well away from the clearing, he hoisted her over his shoulder and ran.

Oasis Tribune Wednesday, July 16 GUARD DOG SLAIN.

The dismembered body of Rusty, bartender Red Peterson's German shepherd, was found yesterday morning inside Hoffman's Market where the dog had been left, overnight, to guard the store against recurrent vandalism and grocery thefts.

Says proprietor Elsie Hoffman, who found the slain canine, ”I'm just sick about it, just sick. We shouldn't have left that poor dog in here. I just knew he'd come to no good.” In tears, she added, ”That dog was the world to Red.”

Red Peterson, owner of the dog and bartender at the Golden Oasis, was unavailable for comment.

CHAPTER THREE.

Lacey climbed onto a bar stool. She tapped a cigarette out of its pack, and pressed it between her lips.

George O'Toole swiveled toward her. His ruddy, broad face crinkled with a smile, and he struck a match.

”Thank you.”

”And what'll it be you're drinking to night?” he asked, with a lilt Lacey a.s.sumed he had picked up from Barry Fitzgerald movies.

”A little red wine.”

”A dainty drink for a dainty lady,” he said. He raised a thick, weathered hand and caught the bartender's eye.

The bartender was Will Glencoe.

”A spot of red for the lady, Will. And another Guinness for himself.” The bartender turned away. ”You did Red a fine turn, writing up your story the way you did. He was almighty ashamed of the way he carried on about Rusty. I can understand a grown man weeping over the loss of a good dog-done it myself more than once. But it's a private thing, and a man doesn't want it blatted about. You did him a fine turn.”

”He's right, there,” said Will, setting down the drinks. ”Take your average reporter, he'd have a field day. Bunch of blood suckers, that's what they are.”

”But not our Lacey. You did yourself proud, young lady.”

She reached into her purse.

”You put that away.”

”Thank you, George.”

He paid, and Will stepped away to take an order down the bar.

”Where is Red to night?” Lacey asked.

George narrowed one eye. ”Now where would you be, if a heartless soandso had done your dog that way?”

”Elsie's?”

He turned his wrist over, and peered at his watch. ”She'll be closing up in ten minutes. Red's there with his twelve gauge. He'll be camping there to night, hoping the filthy beggar shows up again. I offered my services-two guns are twice one-but he's after doing it alone, and I can't say I blame the man.” George lifted his stein. ” To your health,” he toasted.

”And yours, George.”