Part 36 (1/2)

A bell was ringing.

Someone at the door!

It blared again.

The telephone?

She hurled herself off the bed and rushed across her room, afraid the caller might hang up before she could reach the phone - afraid he might not.

Who?

She hoped it was Bodie. It could be anyone.

The obscene caller. Harrison or Joyce. The hospital.

My G.o.d, don't let it be bad news!

Maybe a wrong number, a salesman.

The phone rang again.

The hallway was faintly lighted from the living room lamp she hadn't bothered to turn off.

She slapped a hand against the kitchen doorframe to stop herself, reached around the corner and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the phone. 'h.e.l.lo?'

'This is you, isn't it?'

She knew the voice. Her skin seemed to shrink. She felt it tighten and p.r.i.c.kle.

'Not a recording, this time?'

'No.'

'Do you know who I am?'

'What do you want?' she asked, her voice trembling.

'I want to talk. I've missed you. Have you been away?'

Hang up, she thought. Sure. If I do, he'll just call again.

Or come over. He knows I'm here.

Pen remembered the shotgun. She'd left it in the living room, propped against the wall near the door, hidden behind the curtains.

Let him come over. Give him a big surprise.

'Or were you just afraid to pick up the phone? You're not scared of me, honey, are you?'

'Why should I be scared?' she asked, trying to steady her voice.

He laughed. It was a quiet, dry laugh that made a cold place in her stomach.

'I've been hoping you'd call again,' she told him.

'Really?'

'Those things you saida I've listened to the tape so many times. I love it.'

'Makes you hot?'

'It sure does. I'm getting hot right now.'

'What are you wearing?' he asked.

Not a st.i.tch. Pen wished she'd grabbed her robe on the way to the phone.

He can't see me.

'Jeans. And a sweater.'

'A bra.s.siere?' he hissed.

She almost said yes. She wanted to be wearing one. She wanted to be dressed in tight, heavy clothes. She had never felt so exposed and vulnerable.

Don't back out now, she told herself.

s.h.i.+vering, she said, 'No.'

'Ah, fabulous. A sweater and no bra.s.siere. I can see it. Yes. Oh, my c.o.c.k is getting big and hot. Do you know what I'd like to do? I'd like to lift your sweater and suck your t.i.ts.'

'Would you like me to take it off?' she asked.

'Oh, yes.'

What the h.e.l.l am I doing? she wondered. Am I mad?

'There,' she said, 'it's off.'

He sighed. 'Are your nipples hard?'

She looked down. They were hard. But not because of desire. 'They sure are,' she said.

'I'd like to rub my c.o.c.k on them. Would you like that?'

'I sure would.'

'Oh, I know it, I know it. Wouldn't you like to take off your pants?'

'Sure. Just a second.'