Amara by Laymon Richard

Author:Laymon, Richard [Laymon, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Slasher, Horror, Adult, Fiction
ISBN: 0755331850
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2003-11-30T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

It came for him. It staggered, legs moving with awkward stiffness, an arm reaching out.

He backed away, breathless with horror.

Backed into waiting arms.

Crying out, he spun and stared into Hydra’s leering half-face. Naked, she fell to her knees. She clutched his erection. She guided it slowly toward her face.

“Fuck my brains out,” she said. Laughing, she eased him into her head.

He felt the tissues part around his stiff organ.

Heard the squish.

“Hey! Hey!”

Somebody shook Imad.

“You okay?” a woman’s voice asked through the darkness.

He sat up, turned on the bedside lamp. The woman beside him swung up an arm to shield her eyes. She lay on top of the sheets. She was older than Imad and bony. Her skin was slick with suntan oil; a coconut oil that smelled rich and inviting. He remembered their encounter at the beach, where he’d offered to rub the oil on her back—and she’d accepted. He remembered bringing her home, drinks, a meal, and taking her to bed, where they oiled their bodies and wrestled in an endless slippery contest of lust.

“Louise,” he murmured, at last remembering her name.

She uncovered her face. A handsome face with thin lips and high cheekbones and clear blue eyes. She gave him a tentative smile. “Are you all right?”

“I dreamed.” He smiled. Shrugged. “It was nothing.”

“It sounded just awful.”

“We all have our crosses to bear, do we not?”

“That’s for sure. Me included.”

“I apologize for waking you. However…” He smiled. “Since we are both awake now and the night is young…” He massaged one of her small, soft breasts.

She held his hand as if she wished to keep it there always. “The night isn’t all that young, Imad. I’m afraid I have to be on my way.”

“No.”

“I really hate to go, but I’ve got a job to get to.”

“At this hour?” he asked. “It’s nearly eleven.”

“Yeah. I go on at twelve. Waitress over at Clyde’s. You know, Clyde’s?

Has this dumb sign out front. ‘Twenty-four-hour Service Day or Night’?”

She laughed softly. “Anyway, it’s been cool.”

Turning onto her side, she kissed him long and hard.

She was gone. Alone in the huge house, Imad went to the wet bar and poured himself a glass of gin. He took it to the couch, sat back, used the remote to turn on the television. He pressed the buttons, watching a few seconds of each broadcast before turning to the next.

He settled for an adventure show in which a lithe brunette was being pursued by a gunman. She wore a T-shirt and shorts. Imad was pleased to notice that she wore no bra. He watched the breasts dance as she ran.

Then she hid and knocked the gunman unconscious with a flowerpot.

Rather silly, but Imad enjoyed the view of the woman, and was disappointed to see the show end.

A frowning, white-haired man came on. “In just a few minutes, on Eyewitness News at eleven, we’ll tell you about a miraculous rescue at sea, the President’s latest energy proposal, and a bizarre double murder at one of our local museums.

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