For Want of a Memory (22 page)

Read For Want of a Memory Online

Authors: Robert Lubrican

 

 

"I thought we were interested in the real thing," sighed one woman.

 

 

"We are," said Brenda, not missing a beat. "But we also all know that sometimes things don't work out like we planned. And, it's possible to use all of these toys
with
your man, to enhance the experience ... break out of the routine."

 

 

"Like how?" asked one woman cautiously. She was staring at a pink, lifelike, soft rubber penis that dwarfed her husband's real one.

 

 

"Imagine that you're dressed to kill, smelling good, and in the mood. You're on the bed, maybe, when your man comes home. Or maybe he's been home for a while and you're ready to get him to turn off the TV. Imagine laying this next to your hip."

 

 

She held up the dildo and it wobbled in her hand. Two women licked their lips, staring at the moving object as if they were being hypnotized.

 

 

"Your fingertips are barely touching it," said Brenda softly. "You call to him, telling him you need him. He comes and sees you there. You tell him how you're feeling and suggest you'd much rather have
him
than the thing you're touching. What would he do?"

 

 

"My husband would have a coronary and drop dead on the spot," sighed Melinda.

 

 

"Maybe not," suggested Brenda, twisting her writs to make the dildo sway back and forth. "Maybe he'd decide he didn't want you pleasuring yourself with this and take care of it himself."

 

 

"What if he didn't?" asked Alice, who looked a little dazed as her eyes followed the swaying phallus.

 

 

"Then this will do the trick very nicely," said Brenda brightly. "Trust me, girls, when there's no man around, the George Clooney Special here will rock your world."

 

 

"That's ... his?" gasped Felicia Torres, a thirtyish dark skinned woman who worked in the patient administration office of the hospital.

 

 

"So they say," said Brenda, grinning. "And it comes in a vibrating model too, with a reservoir that holds two ounces of the warm liquid of your choice."

 

 

"Oh my goodness," sighed Hilda, who was seven years into her marriage and feeling somewhat neglected.

 

 

"I know I love mine," said Lou Anne, just to see what the reaction would be. All eyes in the room turned on her. Most of them were wide with shock.

 

 

"You
have
one of those?" gasped Hilda.

 

 

"Well, not that exact model," said Lou Anne. "And don't look so shocked. Remember, you all have a man. I don't."

 

 

"It sure looked like you had a man a few minutes ago," said Donna.

 

 

"He's
not
my man," said Lou Anne.

 

 

"Well he could be," said Jessica.

 

 

"All I'm saying is that it doesn't hurt to have something around that will scratch your itch if the real thing isn't available," said Lou Anne. "That's all. It's only weird if you let yourself think about it as being weird."

 

 

 

 

Jess, of course, was the last to leave. Brenda was happy. She'd sold more than enough items to make the trip worth it. She presented Lou Anne with the black cherry nightgown she'd admired so much as her gift for hosting the party. Jess and Lou Anne helped repack Brenda's SUV and waved as she drove off.

 

 

"That was fun," said Jessica.

 

 

"I can't believe you bought the naughty nurse outfit," said Lou Anne, poking her friend in the arm.

 

 

"I might never get to wear it," sighed Jessica. "But you never know. Do you think Kris liked it?"

 

 

"I thought you were all gung ho on him being my man," said Lou Anne.

 

 

"I am!" objected Jessica. "But he's a man and he saw me in it. At least ask him what he thought."

 

 

"I'm not going to ask that man if he got turned on by seeing
you
in a slutty outfit," snorted Lou Anne.

 

 

"If he did, I might let you borrow it," said Jess, smiling.

 

 

 

 

Lou Anne closed the door and sighed. The party had been interesting if nothing else. She wasn't sure it had been worth spending her night off for, but it had been interesting. She picked up her gift and, on impulse, took her clothes off and put on the nightie. It felt wonderful against her breasts. She pulled up the matching boy briefs and picked up her clothes. After she dropped them in the hamper, she went to look in on Kris and Ambrose.

 

 

She was somewhat startled to find them sleeping, until she looked at her watch and saw it was after ten. Ambrose was lying on his back, on top of Kris. There was an open book resting on the little boy's chest. It was clear they'd been reading when one or the other had fallen asleep. She suspected Ambrose had fallen asleep first and Kris had just left him there, probably so as not to disturb him. Then he'd dozed off, too.

 

 

Ambrose was still dressed, so she went to him and spoke quietly, waking him up and telling him it was bedtime. Kris rubbed at his eyes and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He got up and stood aside, as Ambrose took his clothes off, while Lou Anne got the bed ready for him. The boy crawled in and went limp almost immediately, closing his eyes while she kissed his cheek. She turned to find Kris staring at her and realized that, in her bent-over position, she had quite likely showed him her new boy briefs. His eyes went to the dip in the front of the shirt.

 

 

"Do you like it?" she asked softly. "It was my gift for hosting the party."

 

 

"Oh, I like it," sighed Kris. "You're insane to wear it in front of me, but I like it."

 

 

"Are you dangerous?" she asked, cocking her head.

 

 

"I feel pretty dangerous right now," he said.

 

 

"I'm not worried," she said, tossing her hair to one side. "I've decided you're just a big softy."

 

 

"Not right now," he said. Then he blushed.

 

 

"Oh really?" Lou Anne felt her own cheeks get warm.

 

 

"Never mind," he said hastily. "I didn't mean to say that. I should go."

 

 

"Why?" asked Lou Anne. "I thought you were going to write tonight."

 

 

"I don't know," he said, his voice nervous. "It's just that ... " His hands went to hover in front of his groin.

 

 

"You hungry?" asked Lou Anne. "Why don't I fix us a bite. And I have to tell you about my dream."

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

Harper's review of cold case files found six cases in which there was either an attempted or actual kidnapping. Four of them contained DNA evidence. His next move was to ask the FBI to provide DNA samples from the Higginbotham brothers.

 

 

"What are you up to now?" asked Agent Jefferson, who was frustrated by chasing what he now believed was a wild goose, concerning the "mastermind" of the Custer case.

 

 

"I've got four cold kidnapping cases," said Harper, simply.

 

 

"You want to stack the charges," suggested Jefferson.

 

 

"No, I want to solve old cases," countered Harper.

 

 

"Why do you think these three might have been involved?"

 

 

"I don't. I'm just running down leads ... possibilities ... doing my job, Agent Jefferson."

 

 

"Why muddy the waters?" asked the federal agent. "We've got them cold on this one. They're going away forever, if I can ever get the fucking civilians to let me close the case."

 

 

"You married?" asked Harper.

 

 

"What does me being married have to do with your cold cases?"

 

 

"If somebody kidnapped her, and never got caught, wouldn't you want to know who did it?"

 

 

"You're a crusader!" chuckled Jefferson.

 

 

"I'm a cop. It's what we do. Now, are you going to help me or do I have to go through official channels?"

 

 

"You don't have to threaten me," said the FBI agent. "And it wouldn't do you any good anyway. This one is too high profile." He frowned. "What's my probable cause for getting the samples?"

 

 

"You've got blood at the scene, don't you?" asked Harper. "Have you positively confirmed whose it is?"

 

 

"No need," said Jefferson. "Only the perpetrators were injured."

 

 

"I'm sure the defense will see it that way too," said Jim.

 

 

Jefferson snorted. "Okay, I'll get you your samples. But you report anything you find to me ... got it?"

 

 

"I work for the city of New York," said Harper. "If I short circuit my boss, he'll have my ass."

 

 

"Your boss is an ass," said Jefferson.

 

 

"You'll know something just before he does. That's the best I can do. I have to live here."

 

 

"You're on." The man smiled. "You really think there might be something here or are you just going through the motions?"

 

 

"Going through the motions is what solves crimes," said Harper shrugging.

 

 

 

 

"Okay, so tell me about this dream," said Kris. "You said I was in it?"

 

 

She looked a little uncomfortable.

 

 

"It was a strange dream. You know how dreams can be strange and not mean what they appear to mean ... right?"

 

 

He grinned. "You mean we were naked?"

 

 

She blushed. "No ... not really. Oh, never mind! It was just a stupid dream."

 

 

"Come on. You can't get away with that," he said firmly. "You brought it up, now you have to tell me about it."

 

 

She looked uncomfortable again.

 

 

"Okay, but just remember it doesn't mean anything."

 

 

He waited, forcing her to speak.

 

 

"Okay. We were ... um ... living together ... " He grinned, but didn't say anything. "And I was on some kind of spring cleaning frenzy."

 

 

She stopped long enough that he felt like he could say something.

 

 

"So what about the naked part?"

 

 

"Hush!" she snapped. "I'm getting there." She looked away. "I was wearing a frilly white apron, with cherries all over it."

 

 

"So I was the naked one," he said, his smile wide.

 

 

"Will you shut up and let me tell this?" she yelled.

 

 

"Okay, okay." He turned an imaginary key in his closed lips and then tossed it over his shoulder.

 

 

Lulu stared at him, took a deep breath, and went on.

 

 

"The apron was
all
I was wearing, and I had to climb up on ladders to get at the cob webs and dust the ceiling fixtures, and you were following me around, taking advantage of the fact that all I had on was the apron."

 

 

"Sounds pretty normal to me," he said. "If you were cleaning things almost naked I
would
follow you around trying to peek."

 

 

"That's not all you were doing," she said, sounding a little miffed.

 

 

"I see," he said. "Was I being naughty?"

 

 

"You were being
very
naughty!" she said emphatically.

 

 

"So this dream means you want to get it on with me." He grinned.

 

 

"If you'll
remember
," she snapped, "I reminded you that dreams don't always mean what they
appear
to mean. So just don't even think about it, buster."

 

 

"Hey, it was your dream," he said, holding up his hands. He shrugged. "My dreams aren't so complicated. In my dreams, we're just in bed doing it like minks." He grinned.

 

 

"This is weird," said Lou Anne. "We've only known each other for a few weeks and we're having strange dreams." She frowned. "Maybe it has something to do with this book you're writing. I keep thinking about the book, and things that could happen in it, and then you write something that gets me going.

 

 

"It's the whole karma thing," said Kris smoothly. "When you saved my life, our souls were intertwined. It will just take a while to get them untangled. Anyway, I kind of like your dream. It has all the elements of something that might be fun in real life. Except for the cleaning part, maybe."

 

 

She startled him slightly when she said, "It was the most fun I ever had cleaning." Then she fixed her eyes on him. "Okay, enough of dreams and all that. You need to write!"

 

 

"I will, just as soon as I finish my snack," he said calmly.

 

 

 

 

Lou Anne looked across the table at Kris, through the hair that had drifted down over her eyes. He was just eating. Both of them were, so there wasn't much talking going on. She stopped chewing and intentionally examined the atmosphere in the room. She decided it was comfortable. Even after talking about that silly dream, she still didn't feel uncomfortable. She had when she'd started, but his reaction to it had reassured her. She saw his eyes go from the sandwich he was taking a bite out of to the front of her night shirt. That felt comfortable somehow, too. She thought about that slap on the ass he'd given her, earlier in the evening. He liked her ass. He found her attractive. That much was obvious. She didn't know if he'd been kidding about
his
dream, but she found that it didn't bother her to think that he
had
dreamed about her.

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