She shivered. The paper was almost completely covered by a drawing, very vivid with strong reds and blues.
“I don’t know.” She leaned closer.
Her blond hair fell over her face, and she didn’t brush it back as she tried to figure it out.
“Uh, two snakes with wings?” she guessed. “No, an eagle with two snakes in his mouth. Ugh, it has teeth, and it looks like the whole thing’s burning up around the edges.”
“Great, huh?”
She raised one shoulder, noncommittal.
“I drew it,” he said flatly.
“Uh, no kidding. Can we have that now?”
He gave her two generous lines and watched her expertly snort every tiny grain. She breathed deeply a few times, shuddering, then turned to him.
“Your turn.”
“Go away. I like to do it alone,” he said.
She wandered back into the dining room and took her clothes off. She started dancing naked to music in her head. For a few minutes, Troland watched her grinding away for his benefit. She had a small flat ass, no hips, and a stomach like a board. Probably hadn’t eaten anything in months. The girl was way into it. He wasn’t turned on.
“Hurry up,” she said. “I’m waiting for you.”
He frowned at the command and turned his attention to the coke. He had to have something, but didn’t want as much as she had had. Finally he turned his back to her and took a little, just enough to enjoy it. He sniffed a few times afterward, letting himself go with it. He felt better.
“Com’ere.”
She danced over to where he stood by the table, humming to herself and snapping her fingers.
“Unzip my jeans.”
She unbuttoned the button, then began on his zipper, opening her thighs around his legs and pressing her flat chest against his shirt with her two hands between them. He wasn’t wearing anything under his jeans. She reached in and giggled.
“Ah.” She rubbed with one hand and pulled at his jeans with the other.
“No, leave them on,” he said.
“Don’t you want to get undressed?”
She started yanking his shirt up, but he jerked away from her before she could get it very far.
“I said no. Do it right.”
“What’s right for you?” She sounded peevish.
“On your knees.”
She looked at the worn carpet on the floor, the dining table and the chairs around it, puzzled. “Where?”
“Here. Suck.” He planted himself in the chair with his legs apart. He turned his head away from her and studied the drawing as the girl got on her knees and started rubbing his inner thighs, the bare V of his stomach where his jeans were open. She nudged him out and rubbed for a while, then lowered her head over him.
“Wait. Put this on.” He dropped a condom on the floor beside her.
“Geez,” she muttered. She tore the foil, pulled it out, and unrolled it.
He watched her to see that she did it right, put it on so that none of her filthy germs could get inside. All the way up he wanted it. She pulled it all the way up.
He looked at his drawing some more as she put her mouth around him and squeezed tight with her lips. She moved up and down, slowly at first and then hard.
“That’s good, more tongue,” he said. “Yeah.” He closed his eyes and reached for her tits. He couldn’t get to them. Both her hands and her mouth were working on him. He tried to get into it.
Finally he stood up, moved her aside like a piece of furniture, and went into the bathroom to take a leak. When he came back, she was on the same place on the floor. On her hands and knees wiggling her ass at him like a picture come alive from a nudie magazine.
“You didn’t come, did you?”
He sat down again, ignoring her.
“Let’s try something else,” she said.
He looked at her. She was up, up, up, showed no signs of fatigue even though she’d been at him for thirty minutes at least. He’d lost interest. He had his true purpose in mind now.
“Hey, whatever your name is. Come on.” Her tongue darted in and out of her mouth as she wagged her tail.
He laid his pens out. Then he carefully put the transfer paper over the design and taped the edges.
The girl frowned. “Hey, do me now,” she said.
“Go take a nap.”
“I don’t want to take a nap.” She stuck her tongue in his ear. “Come on, you want a good time, don’t you?” She began moving against him, rubbing her pointy breasts back and forth across his arm, nuzzling his neck.
“Beat it. I’m busy.”
“I wanna do it,” she whined. “Come on, let’s fuck.”
“Later.”
“I don’t wanna do it later.” She backed away from him so he could get a better view of her. “Hey, look.” She posed, standing a few different ways, then bent over so he could see her crotch, anus, everything.
He wasn’t looking, though. He paid no attention to her as she crawled under the table. Suddenly her head poked up between his legs and she had him in her hand. A firm grip on his balls and cock. He jumped a foot.
“What the fuck? Get away from me, you crazy cunt.” He pushed her away furiously.
“But I’m not finished. I want to do it,” she complained.
“You want it so much, do it to yourself.”
She put one hand on her hip and tossed her blond hair impatiently. “Hey, don’t you have what it takes?”
He reddened. She had no idea what he could do to her. The big wave rose, almost taking over. Then he glanced down at his beautiful drawing and his true purpose. Willy told him to let it go. He let the wave go back.
“I said I’m busy now. Do it to yourself.”
For a minute or two she stood there swaying in front of him, dancing to the music in her head with both hands teasing at her crotch. Then suddenly she squatted on her heels and shoved her two fingers as deep inside as she could get them.
17
“Have you checked with Sex Crimes?” Milt asked.
Newt stirred his coffee with a bent spoon. Absently he bent it back into shape. “Yes. No burning or branding cases in San Diego at the moment. Plenty of other kinds of assault, though. They have a rapist that dresses up as Superman, even has a cape.”
They were in the cafe down the street from the sheriff’s office, talking the situation over. The coroner’s report had been filed. The data on the unidentified dead girl was in the computer. Now they had to wait and see if something came up.
Milt started on his second doughnut. It was heavily frosted with glaze. Whenever he was distressed, he ate. He was silent, chewing thoughtfully.
“What about your friend in Twentynine Palms?” Newt asked. He wasn’t going to eat a doughnut no matter how tempted he got. They gave him heartburn. He kept that heartburn in mind as he watched Milt swallow.
“I was getting to that. I sent him the report, the photographs, everything,” Milt replied, licking his fingers.
