Body Language by Michael Craft

Author:Michael Craft [Craft, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9781480433939
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 1999-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

PART THREE

Three Days Ago

I HAD ANOTHER DREAM, which began as a replay of an earlier one.

I’m a boy of nine, visiting the house on Prairie Street for the first time. It’s the second day of my visit, and I’ve met everyone in the household except my oldest cousin, Mark Quatrain, who’s returning from college. Then somebody opens the door, and I see him. He’s very handsome, with wavy hair, and he’s wearing tan pants. Everyone else is hugging him; I want to, but think I shouldn’t. Trying to think of something clever, I tell him, “We’ve got the same name.” He smiles and says, “How about that?” Then he musses my hair with his hand.

Later that afternoon, I’m in Joey’s room, and I stroll out into the hall and look in on Mark. There he is with his shirt off, unpacking a suitcase and sorting through his records. Seeing me, he says, “I’ll find some Mozart.” He kneels on the floor, reaching for an album that slipped behind the stereo. His backside is toward me, and I can’t take my eyes off him. I feel lost for a moment; then I walk over to him and just, well… touch him.

Mark gets up fast, laughing, being nice. He says, “Go ahead. Touch me.”

I put my arms around his waist and squeeze him against me. He looks at the ceiling with his mouth open, and he puts his hands in my hair, and he pulls, and it sort of hurts but feels good anyway. He says, “I want to touch you, too, Mark.”

So I take one of his hands and put it between my legs, and I feel warm and hard there. He looks into my eyes and tells me how green they are, and I laugh, telling him, “Show me your cock. Fuck my mouth.”

I’m not little anymore, but his age, eighteen. We’re the same height, same build, same name, same khaki pants. There’s a twin-thing going on, and it heats up fast. We’re on the floor, groping each other. “Mark, oh, Mark,” we whisper.

So far, everything is happening the way it did in the earlier dream. But then, things start to get different.

“Hey,” says someone, popping into the room. But I can’t see him, and I don’t care—I’m busy with my cousin, my twin. “Hey!” he repeats. “Back off, Mark. That guy’s straight. Worse yet, he’s a rapist and a murderer. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he’s dangerous.”

Wearing the same khaki pants that Mark and I wear, Parker walks over to where we are sprawled on the floor together, and he stands over me. The way he moves, the way the crisp fabric hugs his butt, everything about him—his body language—reminds me of my cousin Mark, just as it did on the day when I hired Parker. And now I’m doubly aroused, with my fantasy-cousin lying there at my side, with my hot managing editor straddling my shoulders. “Besides,” he tells me, reaching a hand down to me, “that guy’s just a kid.

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