In the living room, she heard him scratching his chin and taking
deep breaths.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No, no. It’s just, I was wondering …”
She waited while he paused.
“Evelyn, I know you don’t really know me very well, but I was
wondering if you would, perhaps some time, you know, like to go out on another
date.”
Another date! Taken by surprise, Evelyn coughed to clear her
throat.
“I’m sorry,” Neil said. “I shouldn’t have asked. Just forget it.”
“I’d love to go out with you date.”
“You would. That’s … that’s wonderful.”
Judging his position by the sound of his voice, Evelyn reached out
and found his hand. She gripped it and squeezed. Next moment she felt displaced
air and Neil kissed her cheek. She blushed, then lifted her other hand to seek
his face. She fingered his cheeks, his lips, his nose. Then she leaned forward
to kiss his lips, shuddering in delight as they made contact, velvet pillows
colliding. The aroma of blood seemed stronger close up, the smell like rusty
metal.
She released his hand to embrace him, her arms around his torso.
Neil reciprocated, pulling her toward him, his hands caressing her back, their
bodies pressed together, inseparable. Breathless, Evelyn felt as though she
were drowning – thought again of Aaron. Poor little Aaron.
She felt Neil’s hand slip underneath her shirt, slide toward her
bra strap. Too fast, she thought as he fumbled to unfasten the clasp, but she
did nothing to stop him.
Seconds later she felt the clasp spring open, Neil’s hand sliding
around to cup her breast, her nipple going hard at his touch.
His tongue slid into her mouth and met her own to entwine like
snakes in a nest. She tasted his saliva. Swallowed.
God, she wanted him.
She ran her hands across his chest, felt the ridges of his
pectoral muscles, felt them twitch beneath her touch. Her hands slid lower,
gripped the bottom of his jumper and t-shirt and tugged to pull them over his
head.
Their lips parted for a moment, then they resumed the kiss.
She ran her hands across his naked torso. Felt the corrugated
ridges of a toned abdomen. She ran her fingers across his chest, fingered a
small lump of protruding skin near his armpit. Felt two more beside it forming
a straight line. The Braille letter ‘l’.
You have to feel for the things you can’t see, child.
She ran her hands across his arms, felt small pimples on the back
of his left triceps. Four dots forming an L shape, the Braille symbol for ‘v’.
A vague, unnameable fear made her tremble. Mistaking her shudder for
excitement, Neil increased his ardour.
She ran her hand across his back, the sharp edges of his shoulder
blades like the nubs of wings. There she found two small pimples or spots. They
angled at forty-five degrees from the lower left to the higher right, the
symbol for ‘e’. Down toward the base of his spine, she found two more spots,
angled right to left, the one on the left the lower of the two. The Braille
symbol for ‘i’.
lvei
With her mother’s help, she learned a long time ago to trust her senses,
to find the signs.
Sometimes they were difficult to decipher, other times, as with
Aaron and Neil, they proved very easy.
Now she knew what she must do.
“Are you okay? You seem a little, distant,” Neil said.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”
A life in darkness didn’t mean she couldn’t see the truth. Mother
taught her that before she disappeared.
Mother taught her many things.
###
About the author:
Shaun Jeffrey was brought up in a house in a
cemetery, so it was only natural for his prose to stray towards the dark side
when he started writing. He has had a number of novels published, including:
'The Kult', ‘Killers’, ‘Fangtooth’, 'Deadfall' and 'Evilution', and two
collections of short stories, ‘The Mutilation Machination’ and 'Voyeurs of
Death'. The Kult was optioned for film by Gharial Productions.
Visit the author's site at:
http://www.shaunjeffrey.com
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