GirlNextDoor (9 page)

“You know what I mean.”

“You’re the best thing,” Nolan insisted, “the closest thing
to real love I’ve ever had.”

“No, I’m not.” Lucy frowned. “You had a real love with
Kevin. God knows I hate to admit it, but you were…happy with him. And it was
everything, love and sex and everything. Not just half, like I’d be.”

He didn’t want to admit it either, but he knew she was
right. He shook his head. “God, Lucy, why does this have to be so complicated?”

“You’re the smart one. You tell me.”

They stood silent for a moment. Then Lucy moved into his
arms. “I love you, Nolan.”

“I love you too.” He held her tightly. “I didn’t know you
weren’t happy. I thought you had everything you wanted.”

“Dumb-ass.”

“Sorry.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go to bed.”

Lucy chuckled sadly. “We could if you
had
a real bed
instead of that abomination of a futon.”

She was changing the subject. Nolan let her. There wasn’t
anything else to say anyhow. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “Tomorrow we sleep in
comfort.”

They settled together on the lumpy futon. He felt Lucy’s
body relax almost immediately, though he wasn’t sure if she was fully asleep.
She was warm, cozy. And she still smelled like John.

If I was straight,
he thought sadly,
Lucy and I
would be perfect together. If John was gay, he and I would be perfect together.

He shook his head slightly. In the words of Hemingway, it
was pretty to think so. The reality might be much different.

Nolan closed his eyes and exhaled. John and Lucy. And
himself. Sex, non-sex, friendship, love. All connected, all tangled. Hopelessly
tangled.

In a few days Lucy would go home, and many of the tangles
would disappear. Things would go back to the way they had been. Things would be
simple again.

With a little shock, Nolan realized how sad that would be
then.

He pulled Lucy a little closer in his arms and tried to
sleep.

Chapter Seven

They had the weekend off, and for once neither of them
picked up any extra shifts. Monday morning, Nolan said, “I slept so good last
night.”

Krulak peered at him wearily over his coffee. “Huh?”

“My new bed came. It’s king-sized. I’m not sleeping on that
crappy little futon anymore.”

“Ah. Good.” John took a deep drink. “You’re not going to be
one of those cheerful morning people now, are you?”

“I’ve been a cheerful morning person for as long as you’ve
known me.”

Krulak grunted and went for more coffee.

For a change, they had a quiet morning. They straightened up
the squad and double-checked the stock. Then they cleaned up the ready room.
Nolan even ran some vinegar through the coffee maker to clean out any residue.
“If we don’t get a run soon,” he said, “we’re going to have to look at washing
the floor or something.”

“Nah.” John sat heavily on the couch. “
Price is Right
is on.”

“Oh, well, hell, that’s important.” Nolan sat down next to
him. “But it’s just not the same anymore.”

“I know. Remember to spay and neuter your pets.”

“Absolutely.”

They sat for a while in silence. Finally, during a
commercial, John said, “You already know I’m sleeping with her, right?”

“Who?”

“Lucy.”

“No, you’re not.” Nolan smiled calmly. “You’re screwing her.
I’m
sleeping with her.”

“Well, yeah, if you want to get all technical.”

“I just like to be clear. And yes, I knew.”

“She said it was okay with you. Lucy. But I should have…you
know, checked with you. First.”

Nolan shrugged. “I sent you to dinner with her on my credit
card. I know you, and I know Lucy. Do you really think I didn’t know what would
happen?”

“And you’re cool with it? Really?”

“Really.”

“Really really?”

Nolan raised an eyebrow. “What do you want me to do, John?
Stand on the sidelines and applaud?”

“That might be interesting.”

“For you, maybe. Breeders. They always think everybody else
is interested.”

John chuckled. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You know she’s leaving this week, right?”

“I know.” John shrugged. “That’s part of the attraction.”

“I figured it was.”

“But also—she’s interesting. You know? I can actually have a
conversation with her.”

“Yeah.”

“I can see why she’s your friend.”

Nolan nodded slowly.

“So do you think you could give me her phone number?”

“You don’t have her phone number?” Nolan laughed.

“It just never came up. Exactly.” John was aware that his
cheeks were hot. It was a little embarrassing, actually. “I’d like to maybe
take her to dinner or something. On my own credit card, even.”

“Wow. This is almost serious.” Nolan held his hand out.
“Phone.”

“Huh?”

“Give me your cell phone.”

“Oh. Right.” John handed the phone over and watched while
his partner programmed the number in from memory. “Thanks,” he said, taking the
phone back.

“No problem. Just do me a favor, huh? If you’re going to
babble like a breeder, take it outside.”

“You’re a true pal, Nolan.”

“I know. She should be at my place. They’re supposed to
deliver the new couches this morning.”

“Couches, plural?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, Mr. Big Spender. First the big color TV and then a
king-sized bed and now
two
couches?”

Nolan shrugged. “That’s what credit cards were made for,
right?

“Right.” John rolled to his feet. “Think I’ll take a stroll
before the Showcase Showdown.”

He went outside in front of the squad and dialed the
brand-new speed dial number. Lucy answered on the first ring. “’Lo?”

“Hey. It’s John. Krulak.”

“Yeah. Caller ID.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Is Nolan okay?”

“What? Yeah. He’s fine. We haven’t had a run all morning.”

“Good.”

“Ehh. If we get much more bored we’re going to start betting
on game shows.”

“Naughty boys.”

“I know. Actually, that’s, uh…” For the first time in ages,
John had to think about what to say to a beautiful woman. Usually the words
were automatic. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Being naughty?”

He heard the sparkle in her voice. He could imagine the sly
smile on her lips. “Sorta.”

“Tell me more.”

“The other night, here at the shed. That was great. I mean,
really great. Thank you.”

“I had fun too.”

“I know. But I kinda wondered if I could, you know, return
the favor.”

“Hmmm?”

“If there’s something you’ve had a dream about, a fantasy or
something, that I could make happen for you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You’re serious.”

John was, in fact, a little hurt that she was so surprised
by his suggestion. He’d always tried not to be a selfish lover. But then, they
always moved so fast sexually that she hadn’t had time to find that out. “I’m
serious. Tell me what and where and how.”

Lucy hesitated. “You’ll think I’m a freak.”

“I hope so.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Lucy, don’t make me come over there and spank you. Unless
that’s the fantasy.”

“Noooo,” she said slowly. “Been there, done that. Not as
erotic as I expected.”

“Okay. Then what’s next on the list?”

She hesitated a second time. This was, John realized, a big
deal. Lucy never hesitated over anything. “Okay,” she finally said. “But you
have to promise you’ll say no if it’s not…something you want to try.”

“I promise.”

“Okay. You alone?”

“Me and the wind and the birds in the trees.”

She told him. Briefly at first, and when he didn’t hang up
or refuse, at greater length. It wasn’t all that kinky, by most standards, but
it wasn’t something John had ever done before. He listened carefully, asked
questions. Made sure he had it absolutely right. “I’m in,” he finally agreed.

Lucy giggled. “Not yet you aren’t.”

And then, of course, the claxon went off and he had to hang
up the phone and go save a life.

* * * * *

John waited by the corner of his building impatiently. He
looked at his watch again. Five thirty-two. The sky was still dark, half-lit in
the east, and the air was cool. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his
zip-front sweatshirt. The pockets were full—props for his morning rendezvous.

If she showed.

The watch again. She was now three minutes late. She wasn’t
coming. He was sure of it. But he waited anyhow.

He had barely slept. He was too wound up after work, and
he’d had props to gather, plans to make. She had left all the details to him.
As he sat in his dark apartment alone, planning, he had grown aroused just
thinking about it. He did not, emphatically did
not
, approve of rape.
There was in his mind no excuse for taking a woman against her will. None. But
when the woman involved was not only willing, but clearly and unmistakably
eager, then it wasn’t really rape at all. More precisely, it was ravishment. He
was going to have this woman, who had had her own way with him twice now,
entirely in his control. He was going to get himself back on top. He would ravish
this woman, and he would like it. A lot.

He heard the engine and stepped back into the shadows. It
was Lucy, driving the van. She parked in the last spot in the lot, farthest
from the entrance doors and the lot lights. John slipped back against the building,
watching while she turned off the lights, shut off the engine. She unfolded a
cardboard sun shield in the front window.

His groin twitched, eager, as she stepped out of the van and
walked toward the door. She wore a white t-shirt and navy shorts. He let her
take three more steps, enjoying the anticipation. Then he moved.

He caught her from behind, one hand over her mouth, the
other around her waist, pinning her arms. She stiffened and then struggled.

“Stop it,” John hissed in her ear. “Do what you’re told.”

She stopped struggling.

He uncovered her mouth but kept his hand close and ready.
“Say the word,” he ordered. “Say it so I know you remember it.”

Lucy shuddered. “Pharmacy.”

“Good. You say it again, and everything stops. Understand?”

“Yes.” Her voice shuddered. “Yes.”

John dragged her back to the van, opened the back door.
There was a clean painter’s tarp spread over the floor. “Get in. Lie face down.
Don’t try to look at me.”

Lucy did as she was told. John climbed in after her and shut
the door. He straddled her. Kneeling, he let most of his weight rest on the
small of her back. He was certain she could feel the length of his erection
through her clothes. He brought a wide Ace bandage out of his pocket. “Close
your eyes,” he ordered. “Lift your head up.”

She complied, whimpering. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t hurt you, Miss Bellino,” John snarled. “Not as long
as you do what you’re told.” He blindfolded her with the cloth bandage,
wrapping it around and around her head. It was tight but stretchy, and he was
sure it wouldn’t be
too
uncomfortable.

“You know my name?”

John pushed her head back down to the floor. “Of course I
know your name.” He leaned over her, breathing in her ear. “I watch you every
morning. I watch you waltz into doctor’s offices like you own the place. You
never even saw me, did you? But I saw you. Oh I saw you.”

“What do you want?”

He humped against her back.

“What do you think I want?”

She shuddered. “Please, please don’t. Please…”

Her voice rose and John put his hand over her mouth. “If you
scream, I’ll choke you unconscious. Understand?”

She nodded, still trembling.

“Good girl.” He rose up on his knees and rolled her face-up.

He tried to pull her shirt up, but she fought him. Grinning,
John grabbed her hands, moved out of his own way, and dragged her to the other
end of the van. He pinned her wrists in one hand and reached into his pocket
for his handcuffs. The cuffs themselves were fabric, lined with hook-and-loop
tape, easy for her to escape from if she wanted to. But the chain between them
was real steel and heavy. It made a wonderful deep clanking sound. He pulled
her arms up sharply, cuffed one wrist tightly, passed the chain through the
latch at the base of the van door, and cuffed her other hand.

“Please,” she whispered, “please don’t do this.”

John straddled her again, undid her shorts and pulled them
down her legs. “I’ll do whatever I damn well want with you, Miss Bellino.”

He sat on her pelvis again and pulled up the little white
t-shirt. She wore a sports bra under it, and he could see her hard nipples
through it. He brought his hands down, covered both breasts, kneaded them
roughly. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch your tits? You have
beautiful tits.” She squirmed under him, rubbing against his crotch.

He slipped the bra up, freeing her breasts, then sat back,
staring at them. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Just beautiful.” He leaned forward
and placed his mouth over her right nipple, sucking hard. Lucy thrashed. He sat
up again, running the pad of his thumb roughly over the damp, rock-hard nipple.

“Stop it,” she moaned. “Please let me go.”

“You don’t want me to stop.” He rolled the nipple between
his thumb and finger. “You love this.”

He pinched her, hard.

She rolled right and left as far as she could go, and then
brought her knee up, hard, into his back.

John grinned. “Try all you want. You can’t get away from
me.”

He glanced back toward the front of the van and improvised.
He slid back between the bucket seats and grabbed her right ankle. Pulling off
her shorts, he grabbed the passenger side shoulder belt from behind the seat,
where it was anchored, and looped it twice around her ankle. Realizing his
intention, she gave a low shriek and struggled fiercely. The belt gave her a
little slack and then locked. Quickly, John caught her left foot—as it swung at
his head—and bound it to the other seat.