Dream Man

Hesitantly, trusting a long-unused instinct, she accepted the invitation and sucked lightly at his tongue. Instantly a shudder ran through his big body, astonishing her. She did it again, and he groaned aloud, a deep sound that reverberated through his chest. Delight in this newfound sensual power shyly bloomed inside her.

He suddenly released her mouth and sat back. His skin was flushed, and pulled taut across his cheekbones. “That’s enough. That’s almost too much. I’m going to leave now, before I try to push you too far.”

She blinked at him, her eyes languorous and dazed, as if she wasn’t quite certain what had happened. He wasn’t too sure himself. He hadn’t been that turned on by a simple kiss since he’d been fifteen, and lost his virginity under the stadium bleachers with a seventeen-year-old cheerleader.

He forced himself to stand up before he made a big mistake and changed his mind about leaving. He had kissed her; that wasn’t enough for him, but it was probably as much as she could stand. All in all, he was extremely pleased with the evening.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said as he walked to the door. She followed him, the awareness rushing back into her eyes. He winked at her. “Your sexy voice turns me on even over the telephone.”

Like a light blinking off, all of the softness vanished from her expression. “I’m glad you like it,” she said flatly. “I screamed so much when Gleen was butchering the little boy that my voice broke. It hasn’t been the same since then.”

9

HE WAS SO ALIVE THAT IT WAS ALMOST PAINFUL. CARROLL Janes could feel the anticipation pooling in him, the power gathering, until it felt as if he should be glowing. He was always amazed that people couldn’t see the power, but then most people really were extraordinarily stupid.

It would be tonight. It was unusual that only a week had passed since the one last Friday, but this was so easy, there was no point in putting it off. And it was pleasant, this buildup of power almost as soon as the glow had faded from before. Of course, he couldn’t count on this occurring every week; the really rude ones didn’t happen all that often. And he normally liked to draw it out much longer, maybe even as long as a month, but that was because there were almost always difficulties to be overcome, complications to solve. Jacqueline Sheets had none. She lived alone, and her routine was suffocating in its rigidity. No, there was no reason to wait.

It was odd that it was almost always women who were rude, though there had been a man once or twice whom he had been obliged to punish. He didn’t like it when it was a man. It wasn’t that a man’s strength made it more difficult; he was contemptuous of that concept. He was strong enough to handle almost anyone, and religiously worked out to maintain that strength. Men simply didn’t offer the pleasure, the opportunity for prolonged teasing while the power built. Men were almost boring. And of course, he wasn’t queer, so at least half the fun was missing. No way would he screw a man. If he was sometimes a bit more lenient with a man’s rudeness—well, it was his decision to make, after all, not anyone else’s. If he preferred women, that was no one’s business but his own.

He hummed all day, causing Annette to remark that he was certainly in a good mood. “You must have big plans for the weekend,” she said, and he heard the unconscious note of jealousy in her voice. He liked that. Of course, he had been aware that Annette yearned for him, for all the good it would do her. She simply wasn’t his type.

“A hot date,” he replied, not caring if she heard the quivering anticipation in the words. It might liven up her fantasies.

He thought of Jacqueline Sheets waiting for him. He had been inside her house, and could picture the scene exactly. He knew where she sat while watching television—which was about all she did. He knew how her bedroom looked, what she wore to sleep in: utilitarian pajamas. He hadn’t been surprised. He preferred nightgowns, but pajama bottoms weren’t a problem. She would pull them off for him; they all did, with a blade shining in their faces.

He had checked out the kitchen. Her knives had been in disappointing shape, with dulled edges barely capable of slicing a banana. She was obviously not a very good cook, or her knives would have been in better condition. He had selected a filleting knife and carried it home, where he had spent the past two nights painstakingly putting a razor edge on the blade. He hated having to work with inferior tools.

He could barely wait for the night, when the ritual would begin, as his father had taught him. When you are rude, you are punished.

Dane had called Marlie at seven that morning, just to say hello and ask if she’d slept well, and the irritation in her voice had made him chuckle. She was still resisting him mentally, but physically it had gone much better than he had ever hoped. He had kissed her, and she not only hadn’t been afraid, she had enjoyed it. Considering her background, that was a giant stride forward.

He grinned like an idiot all the way to work. He had kissed her! So what if it had been a kiss that would make the average teenage stud roll his eyes in boredom? What did teenage studs know? They weren’t interested in anything but squeezing breasts and a few quick thrusts. He was old enough, thank God, to know that the slower it was, the better it was. He might be crazy with frustration by the time Marlie came to him, but after last night he had no doubt that it would happen. He was dizzy with delight, anticipation fizzing in him like champagne bubbles.

Trammell was already there when Dane walked in, his dark eyes sleepy as he leaned back in his chair and watched Dane approach. People moved around them, talking and swearing; telephones rang incessantly, the fax machine and photocopier hummed almost without pause. A typical day, but Dane didn’t feel typical. He was still smiling as he went to the coffee machine and poured two cups of coffee. He sipped one as he returned to his desk, and gave Trammell the other. “You look like you need it. Bad night?”