Page 87 of Just Killing Time


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“Please,” she whimpered.

He knew what she needed. Centering his attention on her erect little clit, he circled it, curling his tongue to cup it just as she liked.

Caroline shuddered and began to wail. Her cries sounded as good to his ears as her moisture tasted to his tongue. He sipped, drank her in, making her shake and come in his mouth before he returned up her body to kiss her as she demanded.

He rolled her over, holding himself above her, his cock teasing her entrance.

“Finish,” she ordered, thrusting up in demand.

“Finish?” He chuckled. Then he thrust into that wet place where sanity ended and fantasy began.

“Oh, baby, we’re just getting started.”

HESTER COULDN’T THINK of a better time to pay a visit to the Little Bohemie Inn than during the ridiculous Halloween party being taped Sunday night. Everyone in town would be there and even if she was noticed, no one would think a thing of it. So, it suited her purposes, even though at first she’d been disgusted by the idea. As if the holiday weren’t decadent enough, did it really have to be put right into the middle of nice, God-fearing September?

When she arrived at around eight—dark enough to slip in shadows, and late enough for some drinking to have taken place—it looked like half the town was present. Of those, three-quarters had had too much spiked cider, beer or candy. They were high on liquor, sugar and the presence of those all-seeing TV cameras.

That made it ever so easy to slip around the back of the inn, away from those prying eyes and prying lenses. She entered through the mudroom door. Hester had been in this house before, back when it had been an abandoned white elephant, dusty and dour, overlooking Derryville like some horror movie set.

She’d preferred it then. It had some character. And it was good for scaring bratty kids who had the gall to ring her doorbell and run. All she had to do was yell out a threat to chase them up to the Marsden place and that would be the end of that nonsense.

She knew the owners had done some work on the place but felt pretty certain they wouldn’t have changed much of the actual layout. Her first few steps inside confirmed that. Not much had changed, except, of course, there were no cobwebs, drooping wallpaper, mouse turds or moldy stains on the floor.

It surprised her when she saw just how well that nutty Hildy Compton and her niece had fixed up the place. She’d predicted a quick failure back when they’d shown up in town. Obviously, she’d been wrong.

“Well, anybody can be wrongonce,” she muttered, not willing to concede that it had ever happened before. She didn’t count her friendship with Victoria Lynn, and the life they’d lived. She hadn’t beenwrong, in that instance. Merely young and misled.

Seeing the antique settee and delicately carved telephone table in a hall alcove, she harrumphed. The Compton women did appear to have some taste.

But she had no time for looking around. Hearing laughing voices in the kitchen next door and from the front hallway, she ducked into a doorway until the coast was clear. Not an easy feat, but the dark shadows aided her effort.

When all was clear, she made her way to a set of back, enclosed stairs, nearly hidden by a small doorway set into the paneling. They’d probably been built for servants during the house’s heyday. She remembered them being a bit narrow, and a bit steep. They were still both. She was out of breath by the time she reached the first landing and almost gasping by the second.

But it was worth it. She was coming to the end of her own adventure. Just a few more minutes and she’d be picking up a plain brown bag filled with money. Lots of money. Then this stupid town and her pious brother and his chippy girlfriend could eat her dust as she rode away and never looked back.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

GETTING OUT OF his car in front of the Little Bohemie Inn Sunday night, Mick wondered if he should have accepted Caroline’s offer of help from the costume department after all.

Everyone—from cast to crew to all the extras from the town—was dressed in full Halloween regalia. There were wizards and clowns, witches and killers. Old man Shin made an interesting-looking Batman, particularly since his chest sunk in instead of bulging out in the costume. Sid Shepherd, a local accountant, was walking around in a big white diaper, which made Mick wonder what was in that guy’s bottle. Louise Flanagan’s burly father wore a long, spangly gown and red boa.

All in all, the crowd kinda made his simple Zorro mask and cape look bland.

“You made it!”

He glanced up and saw his sister, Sophie, in a Little Bo Peep costume. How completely out of character. Might as well put a Barney suit on Stephen King. Beside her, Daniel, her fiancé, wore a cowboy hat, plaid shirt and a silver badge. A western cop. It worked.

“Are you trying to lure the sheep toward the wolf?” he asked his sister when she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“I don’t know. Do you have any particular sheep in mind? Just tell me where you’ll be.”

He laughed in return. His sister knew all about his tattoo.

“As a matter of fact, I do. But I don’t need my kid sister’s help to lure her. So, I guess you’ll just have to lead some other poor helpless sheep back home for yourself.” He glanced at Daniel.

“Ha ha.” Easygoing as always, Daniel didn’t appear to take offense. “She’s trying to do advance damage control with that sweet little costume, you know, before the interview airs tomorrow. I told her she should just come as Freddy Krueger and get it over with.”

Mick knew Daniel was referring to the morning show segment, when Sophie was going to reveal herself as R. F. Colt. “How did the taping go?”

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