Sociopath? (12 page)

“I can’t see why any man would want to cheat
when he had a wife as pretty as you, Pam.”

And then he changed the subject.

By the end of the next two weeks, he was
flirting, just a little, and she was flirting back, just a little.
To be fair, most women would have found it pretty hard to resist
Rafe when he was putting on the full court press.

He calculated the timing, figured it would
take him two more weeks to get the job done.

“Pam, would you consider going for a drive
with me?”

“Are you crazy, Rafe? You’re a 16-year-old
kid!”

“It wouldn’t be a date or anything. I just
enjoy being with you. I like talking to you. I like looking at
you.” The smile gleamed in his dark face. “Just a ride in the car,
Pam, that’s all. It’s a beautiful night. I’ll put the sunroof back.
I’ll take you anywhere you want to go and bring you back whenever
you say.”

“Just a ride, Rafe, that’s all, and you’ll
bring me back when I’m ready? Do you swear?”

“I swear, Pam.”

It was a beautiful night, balmy and
star-filled. The trees rustled in the light breeze. The bay
glistened in the moonlight. He parked the Corvette in a spot he
knew by the water where it was always private. They just talked. He
didn’t try to touch her, not until the very end, when he put his
hand behind her neck and leaned down to kiss her. Not a long kiss
but a definite one, enough that he felt her lips opening under
his.

“We’d better go back, Rafe.”

One more week, he thought.

“Let me spend one night with you, Pam, just
that. I don’t want to muck up your life. I just want to spend a
night with you. Then you can go off and marry Joe and live your
stable, solid life. Just one little fling, Pam, before you get back
on the straight and narrow for good.”

“Rafe, my God, if anyone ever found out, I’d
die of embarrassment.”

“Yes!” he thought triumphantly, “done!”

“No one will find out, Pam. We’ll go into
D.C. I’ll take you to one of the best hotels in the city. We’ll
have a great meal. We’ll have a wonderful time. And then I’ll kiss
you good bye and leave you alone, I promise.”

She looked at him across the table. Her mind
said, “you have lost your marbles to even be thinking about this.”
Her voice said, “I’m off Thursday. I could go Wednesday night. I’ll
let Misty stay at her Grandma’s house.”

He nodded. “Wednesday night, it is. Park your
car on the second floor of the hospital parking garage. I’ll pick
you up there.” The smile came and went. “You won’t get cold feet
and stand me up, will you, Pam?”

“No, I’ll be there.”

*

And she was. He found the car where she was
waiting and pulled up beside her. She slipped quickly into the
‘Vette. She did have cold feet. In fact, she’d tossed and turned
all night thinking about the stupidity of what she was doing and
who she was doing it with but it didn’t matter. When the time came
to leave to meet him, she was pulling out of her driveway. She
thought she looked pretty good for 37. She’d paid extra attention
to her make up and her hair. He’d said they’d go to an up-scale
restaurant so she was wearing her black silk dress with the
vee-neck and the skirt that swirled around her legs and strappy
fuck-me heels.

When she got into his car, he’d just looked
at her for a minute and said, “you’re beautiful, Pam,” and kissed
her lightly.

And she almost didn’t recognize him. She’d
never seen him in anything but blue jeans or shorts but tonight he
was wearing black dressy jeans and a blazingly white shirt, open at
the throat, that showed off his tan, and a casual black sport coat.
He’d obviously been to a hair stylist. His usually too-long hair
with the lock that tumbled across his eyes was sleekly razor
trimmed.

“What do you think?” he asked her, running
his hand across his head, “I usually don’t pay too much attention
to hair until I can’t see but I didn’t think the old hair went with
the outfit.”

“From Rafe the Beach Bum to Rafe the Dashing
Man About Town - it’s sort of a startling switch but I like
it.”

“I figured this way I’ll look older and you
won’t have to be so stressed about what people are thinking.”

He took her to the Regnier Hotel in downtown
Washington, a suite no less. She knew it must have cost at least a
month of her tips at the Marina. She guessed this was how the other
half lived. He’d had a dozen red roses sent to their room in
advance with a card that said, “Thanks, Rafe.”

They ate at the hotel dining room where he
ordered the shrimp scampi and she had filet mignon, baked potato, a
salad and two glasses of Merlot (which she needed for her nerves),
asking him self-consciously, “is Merlot okay to have with a filet?”
To which he replied with amusement, “anything you like is
fine.”

She noticed that if you were wanting to keep
a low profile, Rafe Vincennes was not the person to be with. Every
woman in the room seemed drawn to look in his direction. She could
tell he was aware of it but he didn’t so much as glance back.

The closer it came time to go to the room,
the more anxious she got.

He took her hand. “Pam, just relax. I’ll make
it all right. I promise.”

She thought it was ironic that the
16-year-old had to reassure the 37-year-old that it was okay to
have sex.

He didn’t rush her. They just sat and talked
until finally she was the one who said, “well, I think I’m ready to
leave if you are.”

He grinned. “I’ve been ready all
evening.”

*

Just inside the room, he put his arms around
her and kissed her, softly and sweetly.

“Just let me lead the way. I’ll make it easy
for you,” he told her.

She felt the zipper go down at the back of
her dress. He lifted it over her head and laid it across the chair
so it wouldn’t get wrinkled, then turned back to her and unfastened
her bra. He slipped it over her arms before carrying her to the
king-sized bed where he carefully stripped off her panty hose until
she lie naked. He ran one hand lightly across her breasts and down
her belly, his fingertips trailed across her mound and along her
thighs. Just that, but she felt like little tongues of heat flared
up where his hand had been.

She watched him undress himself. Shoes and
socks, then coat and shirt, pants and underwear. She saw his lean
brown torso moving toward her and she closed her eyes. She felt the
bed give as he lay down beside her.

“Open your eyes, Pam. It’s more fun when you
watch. I like seeing you. I want you enjoy seeing me too.”

She looked up to glimpse the black hair, the
dark eyes, the gleaming smile, coming down over her. He kissed her
softly on the lips, his tongue probing the inside of her mouth. And
then he kissed her forehead, her eyebrows, her cheeks, her
chin.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do
this,” he whispered in her ear.

He kissed her throat and shoulders and above
her breasts and then he moved to each breast, kissing and licking
and lightly sucking, his tongue tickling across her nipples.

She started to lift her hands to put them on
his shoulders.

“No, just lie there. I want to do this for
you. You can get involved the next time.”

So she just lay, with her head spinning, as
she felt his mouth move down her belly and to her inner thighs,
leaving hot wet tongue lines in its wake. She felt him hold her
open with his fingers, then felt his tongue investigating her,
lingeringly, and then on her sweet spot, tickling and massaging,
but slowly, gently, tenderly, as he had known he would have to be
with this woman.

Until, in time, she felt orgasm beginning to
stir, like it had been put to sleep by an evil witch’s spell until
the Prince’s kiss aroused it from its slumber. It lifted its head,
then began to move, finally leaping into full joyous
wakefulness.

“Oh, Rafe, oh, Rafe,” she panted, “that feels
so good, oh, please don’t stop!”

Mentally, he made a small tick beside her
name in his sexual memory book. If that sounds cold, it really
wasn’t. He had his own reasons for seducing her but he also thought
that he was giving full value for what he got.

He moved back up beside her. “Now,” he told
her, “you can join in.”

She put her arms around his neck and kissed
him, pressed herself against him, sucked his nipples, ran her hand
down his hard, flat belly, down the thin line of dark hair that
went from his navel to his groin, to where his cock was standing at
full attention. Meanwhile his hands and mouth were all over her
too. His finger circled her nipple, his mouth nuzzled her neck and
gave her tiny little love bites on her shoulder. He ran his finger
into her vagina. It was wet and creamy.

“I want to fuck you now,” he said, “are you
ready?”

“Yes,” she said, spreading her legs, “do it,
do it!”

He mounted her and she felt him slide inside,
then begin to move in and out, slow smooth strokes.

“There’s no hurry,” he told her, “just let it
happen, Sweetheart. I won’t go ahead of you. I can give you all the
time you need.”

He felt her breathing quicken and her hands
clutching at his back. Her legs went up and around him. Her hips
reached up to meet his.

He practically sang in her ear. “Ah, Pam, it
feels so sweet to be here. God, I’ve wanted to do this since the
first day I met you. Let’s do it together, Baby.”

And they did. Her back arched, she let out a
huge sigh of satisfaction and he felt himself exploding inside
her.

“Mmmm,” she said, “that was great, Rafe.”

She fell asleep with his arms around her.
When she woke up, she was snuggled up against his back with her
crotch pressed against his butt and her face against his shoulder.
She lay for a moment without moving, luxuriating in the hard body
stretched out beside her.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“How did you know I was awake?”

“I felt it.” He turned to face her. “One more
time before we have to leave?”

“Let me go to the bathroom. I’ll be right
back.”

White teeth flashed. “I won’t go
anywhere.”

She peed, brushed her teeth and ran a quick
comb through her hair. When she returned, he pulled her hand over
onto his cock, saying, “this time you get on top.”

“No,” she said, “I’m not an on top kind of
person. I’d be too nervous thinking you’re looking at me.”

“But I want to look at you. I want to see the
look on your face when you make yourself happy. Come on, Pam, just
climb on over here and sit down on it. You don’t have to do
anything else at first. If you do that and you still feel more
comfortable the other way, we’ll change positions.” He lifted her
until she was straddling him. “Just come down on it until it’s
clear inside you.” She felt the head of it at the entryway to her
pussy, felt herself slipping down onto it until it filled her up,
“Just be still for a while. Can you feel how anxious it is for you
to make it come?” he whispered.

And it seemed like she could feel it
throbbing inside her or maybe it was her vagina, throbbing around
it, excited by the foreign object trapped within it.

“Now move around a little, play with it, use
it for what you need.”

Desire overcame her reticence. It was as if
her whole being was focused on the place between her legs. She did
as he said, rotating her hips to feel it pushing inside her,
looking for release. She began to feel small, slow waves of
pleasure breaking against the shore of her consciousness.

“Ride me, Pam. Here, let me get you
started.”

His hands came around her hips as he guided
her to help her find the right rhythm. She was panting now, moaning
a little in her throat. As she rode him harder and faster, the
small slow waves grew until they were great rolling breakers,
carrying her onto a blissful beach, leaving her sensuously content
and completely emptied of stress. She collapsed onto his chest. She
realized she’d forgotten all about him.

“Rafe, I’m sorry, did you…?”

He grinned. “It’s okay, Baby, I hitched a
ride with you.”

*

“What shall I do about the flowers? How would
I explain them if I took them with me?”

He shrugged. “Leave them for the maid. I
don’t care. I only wanted them to be here when you first
arrived.”

She left the roses but pocketed the small
card that came with them.

(He had deliberately planned that card. He
knew the female penchant for saving souvenirs so he made the
message as innocuous as possible, enabling her to explain it away
later if she needed to).

*

“So, Pam, are you glad you let me talk you
into this?”

She hesitated. “Rafe, you’re like a sumptuous
hot fudge sundae, sinfully rich and decadent, but not very
nutritious for every day fare. Joe is meat and potatoes, bland but
filling. The question is, should you eat the hot fudge sundae if
you know you’re just setting yourself up to yearn for something
you’re not going to have again or would you be better off never to
know what you’re missing?

“Tasting everything is always better,” he
answered. “In the end, all we are as people is the sum total of our
experiences.”

“If I was your age, Rafe, I could imagine
letting myself fall seriously in love with you and getting my heart
broken for my efforts but I have to remember I’m a single
37-year-old mother with a shitty little job as a waitress that
barely let’s me make ends meet and a boyfriend who’ll crawl under
the sink to fix the leak.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll end up living,”
he mused, “but I expect I could go however long that is without
ever getting under a sink.”

She laughed. “Exactly.”

“But, Pam, couldn’t you show him what makes
you happy?”

“First, Rafe, I don’t think he’s an old dog
who is going to be up for learning any new tricks and second, he
already thinks he makes me happy. I’m in a Catch 22. Kind of hard
at this late date to say, ‘oh, by the way…’”