Warren Lane Page 6

  “You have a fight with your husband?” he asked.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “He’s not my husband.”

  Ready felt queasy, and the pounding in his head increased as another wave of the hangover washed through him. Ella looked him over, trying to figure out why he looked so uncomfortable. When she noticed his erection, she smiled and he blushed deeply.

  “Nice to see some color in your face,” Ella said. “Did you walk in here with that?”

  “With what?” Ready asked, pretending not to know what she was talking about.

  “With that big smile in your pants?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Uh-huh. So you got it just now, while you were looking up my skirt?”

  “I wasn’t looking up your skirt. I can’t even see up there.”

  “How do you know you can’t see up there if you didn’t look?”

  “I... Look, that’s not the sort of thing I do, OK?”

  Ella lifted the fabric between her knees just slightly, and Ready looked instinctively.

  “What color is my underwear?” she asked.

  “White.”

  Thinking back on Will’s words, Ready thought, She is a ray of sunshine. He was already enchanted.

  Then she stared at his crotch.

  “Stop staring at it,” he pleaded. “You’re making it worse.”

  Ella laughed. “You are fun,” she exclaimed. “Is it your hobby to go peeping in girls’ windows?”

  “Do you treat all your houseguests like this?”

  “No,” said Ella. “You’re the first guest I’ve had.” Then looking back at his pants, she asked, “Doesn’t it hurt when it’s pointing sideways like that?”

  “Everything hurts,” Ready said. The daylight from the window made his brain ache, and he rubbed his eyes to blot it out.

  Ella took a seat next to him on the couch and began to rub his cock. For a moment, she stared at his blushing face with a gentle smile and said nothing, delighted as much by his embarrassment as by his arousal.

  “You can’t help yourself, can you... um... what’s your name?”

  “Warren,” said Ready.

  “Warren,” she whispered in a teasing voice. “Am I really so pretty?”

  Ready looked at her face and rubbed the rim of his glass. “Yes.”

  “You wouldn’t let a boner like that go to waste, would you?”

  “I…What?” Ready asked with apprehension.

  She stood up and pulled her underwear down to her knees, then shook her legs and kicked them off. She pushed Ready’s shoulders toward the head of the couch, pulled down his pants, and climbed on. After a few slow strokes, she began to pick up speed.

  “Not so hard,” Ready said. “I’m gonna puke.”

  She ignored him and kept going. Just as the first beads of sweat were forming on her face, Ready felt a powerful wave of nausea. Her right hand squeezed his shoulder as she came, and her loud, happy cry sent a bolt of pain through his brain.

  They were silent for a moment. Then, still a little out of breath, she said, “Oh my God, I was so turned on before we started, I was ready to blow.” She sat up and studied the pained expression on his face.

  “You didn’t come, did you?” she asked.

  “I’m not… I’m having a bad morning,” he said. “Actually, I’m not even horny. I should probably go now.”

  She smiled and said, “That’s not what your body says.” She moved her hips slowly up and down, rocking them back and forth at the bottom of each stroke. Her face flushed, and her damp hair matted against her forehead and neck as she pushed into his chest with both hands to steady herself.

  “It usually takes me a little while to warm up,” she said, still panting. “But with you, it’s like riding the rapids. I could come again.”

  “Please don’t,” Ready begged. He looked seasick.

  “No, seriously,” she said. “I could. In like thirty seconds.”

  Ready closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

  “Why do you keep rubbing your head?” she asked playfully. “Are you concentrating? Is that how you stay hard for so long without blowing your load?” She looked at him warmly and smiled before a more serious look crossed her face. “Oh, God,” she said, “I’m going to come! Oh my God!”

  She came again and Ready pushed her away. He ran to the bathroom, shut the door, and threw up twice into the toilet. After he flushed and washed his face and mouth, he felt immensely relieved. The queasiness was gone, and the headache was now bearable.

  He walked back to the couch, where the bright blonde sprite sat in her rumpled skirt and blouse, knees together, feet on the floor, toes turned inward, like a careless child. Her face glowed with satisfied passion.

  “You’re still hard,” she observed.

  Ready looked down and thought, What do those commercials say? Seek medical attention for an erection lasting more than four hours? He didn’t know what time it was, or what time he had taken the pills. “Yeah,” he said, “I think I need some help getting rid of this.”

  “Oh, I like a man like you,” Ella said as she pulled him back toward the couch.

  She stood up and removed her blouse and skirt, and then pushed him against the back of the couch and climbed onto his lap. She closed her eyes and moved slowly up and down, savoring every inch of him.

  “You’re not really the painter, are you?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

  “No,” said Ready, with a soft moan. He was finally beginning to enjoy himself.

  “I know, because we didn’t call one,” Ella said. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of Will’s.”

  “Oh, God!” Ella exclaimed with unexpected violence. She moved her hips more quickly. “That turns me on even more. Oh!” she panted. “If he knew I was fucking his friend, it would kill him! Are you his best friend?”

  “Yes,” said Ready.

  “Yes!” she shouted, and she came again. She lay down flat, her chest pressed against his, and tried to catch her breath.

  Her mention of Will reminded Ready why he was there. Fuck, he thought, I’m just supposed get a photo for his wife.

  He reached to the floor and fished his phone from his pants pocket.

  “Who are you calling?” Ella asked.

  “Will,” he replied.

  “Oh, I want him to hear me scream.”

  “Just kidding,” Ready said. “I just need to take your picture.”

  “Why don’t you take a video?” she asked, moving slowly up and down. “We can show it to Will.”

  “OK,” Ready said, happy to follow the path of least resistance. He turned on the video camera.

  Ella sat up and put her face up to the lens and said in a long, teasing voice, “Hiiiiiiii, Will.” She shook out her hair and straightened her back. Her breasts bounced as she moved more vigorously up and down. “How do you like this, Will? How do you like my boobs?”

  She slapped Ready hard across the face, and he almost dropped the phone. Before he could say anything, Ella shouted, “How do you like that, you little bitch?” She slapped him again. Then she moaned, “Oh, God!”

  She pushed the hair from her eyes, and moved slowly up and down, whispering, “That’s it, Will. Alllll the way in. And, oh! Almost out. Alllll the way in. And...almost out.

  “Are you having fun, Will?” she asked in a breathless voice. “Because God knows I am.” She raised her hand to slap Ready again and then let it fall without striking. She stopped talking and her eyes glazed over. She heaved forward with great deep breaths and came so violently this time that spirit, sense, and energy abandoned her all at once. Her sheer intensity carried Ready with her, and he finally spent himself.

  The two of them lay on the couch for a long time in languid contentment, their breathing gradually slowing
, deepening and synchronizing. Finally, Ella lifted her head, opened her eyes, and said, “You must think I’m an awful slut.”

  “Oh, no!” Ready protested. “I think you’re a wonderful slut. I mean...” He looked her in the eye and said with child-like sincerity, “I’ve never had a stranger welcome me into their home with such incredible hospitality!”

  She laughed. “I like you.”

  “I can tell.”

  And then, feeling him grow again between her legs, she exclaimed, “Again? Really? OK, this time you drive.”

  And so the new lovers passed a pleasant summer afternoon.

  Chapter 12

  When he left Ella’s house a few hours later, Ready found the slip of paper with Susan’s number and gave her a call as he drove back toward Santa Barbara.

  “Hello?” Susan said.

  “Hello,” said Ready.

  “Who is this?” she asked abruptly.

  “Warren Lane.”

  “Why haven’t you returned my calls?” she snapped.

  “What? I... You didn’t call me.”

  “Every time I call your office, your secretary tells me to fuck off.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Don’t call her,” Ready said. “She’s a bitch.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “I sure did.”

  “I’m at the Canary,” Susan said. “Room 302. Can you come straight here?” She sounded nervous.

  “Yeah,” said Ready. “I’ll be there in a little bit.”

  Twenty minutes later, he stood at the open door of her hotel room and watched her pace. Her eyes were animated and alert, darting from thought to thought, showing flashes of anxiety, calculation, wonder, anger and fear. In the coffee shop, her appraising scrutiny had made him too self-conscious to really look at her. She was pretty, but there was nothing remarkable about her until you gave her your full attention. Then her beauty blossomed slowly, as she revealed in little flashes the richness of an inner life. In the depth and warmth of those lively eyes, Ready saw the woman Will Moore had fallen in love with, and he was filled with admiration.

  When Susan finally noticed him there at the door, she was struck by the change in his appearance. Unlike their first meeting, when was hung over and lethargic, he now glowed with brightness and energy.

  “Wow,” Susan said. “You have this...” She searched for the right word. “...aura about you. How can you glow like that? Are you ovulating?”

  Ready shrugged and said, “I guess so.”

  She studied his face, trying to gauge whether he had understood the joke. She finally decided that he hadn’t. She reaffirmed her initial judgment of him as handsome and unintelligent, and he became uncomfortable again under her direct and probing gaze.

  “Have you ever thought of modeling?” she asked.

  Ready looked embarrassed and shook his head. “No.”

  “You have the looks for it.” Then she added in a slightly acid tone, “And the brains. Come on in.” She closed the door behind him.

  “Do you really need a lot of brains to be a model?” Ready asked.

  Susan turned on him fiercely. “Who is she?” she demanded.

  “Who is who?” Ready asked.

  “Who is this little girlfriend of his? Who’s he fucking?”

  Ready’s mind drifted back to Ella on the couch. “Oh, she’s a wonderful girl,” he said. Then, realizing that his words hurt her, he changed his tone. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this is difficult.”

  “No,” she said, trying to recover from his enthusiastic response. “I want to know who she is.” She took a deep breath and added, “I want to see this through.”

  She paused, and Ready could see in the changing expressions of her face a long string of troubling thoughts. He looked around the room and noticed there was no suitcase, only a bag from a clothing store on the bed.

  She asked again, with her chin up this time, as if trying to look strong, “Who is she? Who does he love?” But her voice was breaking, and Ready thought, Oh, God. What have I gotten myself into? He opened the mini-fridge and took out a bottle of beer.

  “I know he’s having an affair,” Susan said. “You know how I know?”

  “I suppose you have a sense of these things when you’ve been married to someone long enough,” Ready said. He took a sip of his beer.

  “No. He gave me herpes. Whoever that bitch is he’s fucking has herpes.”

  “What!” exclaimed Ready in a panic. He instantly felt phantom pains shooting through his crotch.

  “While I’m at home making his bed and cooking his food, he’s out having sex with some little slut. What is it with men? And what’s so special about her? Is she beautiful? Is she sexy? Is she good in bed?”

  Ready nodded quietly in assent to all three questions and she gave him a curious look. But she didn’t inquire further. Instead, she said angrily, “Do you have my photo? I want to know what she looks like.” There was fire in her eyes. “Show me!” she demanded.

  Ready put his hand on the phone in his pocket, then hesitated. Showing her the video would be like pouring gasoline onto a fire. His reluctance triggered a fierce reaction. “Show me the goddamn photo!” Susan said. She was shaking.

  Ready pulled the phone from his pocket and opened the video player. Susan took several deep, deliberate breaths to calm herself. She was just beginning to relax when Ready handed her the phone and tapped the screen to begin the video.

  “Hiiiiiiii, Will,” came Ella’s voice from the phone. Her face backed away from the camera, and her naked breasts bounced up and down.

  “Oh my God,” exclaimed Susan, dropping the phone. “What the fuck is that? I asked for a photo, not a porno!”

  “Sorry,” said Ready, feeling embarrassed and confused. “Sorry. I uh....” He had no idea what to say next. The stress of confrontation with a vulnerable, angry, attractive woman paralyzed his mind with anxiety.

  Susan stared down at the phone. It was screen-side down on the carpet, but she could still hear Ella’s moans of pleasure, and her cursing and slapping. Ready grew aroused at the sound of it.

  Susan picked up the phone and sat on the edge of the bed. She reset the video to the beginning and watched in silence.

  “It’s funny he lets her get on top,” Susan said. “He doesn’t like it when I’m on top. He’s very controlling.” She was quiet for a moment, and then observed, “Her boobs are so firm. Mine are…” She glanced at Ready. “Heavy.” He sat next to her on the bed and took her hand, turning the screen so they both could see it.

  Ella was moving fast and moaning loudly. “She certainly does enjoy herself,” Susan said. Then in a tone of great surprise, “Oh my God, she slapped him! I would never do that.”

  Susan looked at Ready, watching his eyes watch the woman on the screen. “She’s really something, isn’t she?” Susan asked, watching for Ready’s reaction. But Ready was transfixed by the sight and sounds of Ella and made no response.

  Susan looked back at the video and said, “This woman has no restraint.”

  As Ella approached her final climax, Susan began breathing deeply, almost in unison with her. “This is going to be a big one,” Susan said, as she watched Ella’s eyes glaze over.

  After Ella’s final cry of pleasure, Susan was quiet for several seconds. Finally, she turned to Ready and said with disgust, “Well I guess those two have something special.” Then she narrowed her eyes and fixed him in a penetrating glare. “Wait a minute,” she said. “How did you get this video?”

  The question caught Ready off guard and his stomach sank with fear. “It was taken from the perspective of the man she’s having sex with,” Susan said. “Which means...” She stared at him for a long moment with an expression of wonder and doubt, her mind churning with ideas. “Which means you must have hacked into Will’s phone and stolen it.”
r />   Ready quietly let out a deep breath.

  “How did you do that?” Susan asked. “He never lets it out of his sight. He’s got a password lock and encryption. God, is this the kind of crap he keeps on there? Are there other videos? Other women? Oh, I don’t even want to know.” Her anger was rising again. “At this point, all I want is a divorce, and I want his money. Not because it means anything to me, but because it means so much to him.”

  She shot up from the bed and paced the floor, saying hotly, “Is he fucking anyone else? I bet he is. I want emails, text messages, everything. I want to see him explain himself in court. In front the lawyers and the judge and his mother. And then he can explain to everyone why he deserves to keep his big house and his fancy cars and all his precious fucking money.”

  “OK,” said Ready uneasily as he rose from the bed. “I’ll get what I can.”

  “You get me everything,” she shouted. “I paid you ten thousand dollars. You get me everything!”

  “Calm down,” Ready begged.

  “Fuck you!”

  “I’m leaving,” Ready said calmly. “I’ll call you when I have more information.”

  As he reached the door, Susan called weakly, “Warren?”

  Ready stopped and turned.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She walked over to him. “This is a hard time for me. My world is falling apart. I know I can be difficult, but I appreciate your help. I really do.” She looked up at him with eyes full of regret.

  Before he realized what he was doing, Ready put his arm around her waist, pulled her toward him, and pressed his kiss upon her with great warmth. She received it with surprise instead of passion.

  He drew away, and she said nothing as she studied his face and watched him grow increasingly uncomfortable. Ready could discern no particular emotion in her face. She had the blank expression of a child who has just unwrapped a gift and doesn’t know what it is.

  “I’m sorry,” Ready said. “I got carried away. I won’t do that again.”

  “Did you think you’d do it the first time?” Susan asked, her sharp eyes still studying his face.