sure nobody is home. If someone comes to the door, they have a little story to tell. “Is Doug there? No? Oh, I must have the wrong address.” But if nobody answers the doorbell, they figure the place is empty and safe to rob.
In they come…
Should I call out?
And say what?
No, I thought. Don’t do it. Keep your mouth shut.
The little town of Chester has its share of crime. I mean, what place doesn’t? But the odds had to be slim that the doorbell was being rung by a burglar.
Not impossible, either. But…
Someone used a key on the front door. I heard its quiet ratchety sound as it slid into a lock, heard the latch click back, heard the knob rattle, heard a sigh of hinges as the door swung open.
A man’s voice called out, “Murphy? Yo, Murph? You home? Helllllo? It’s only me from across the sea!” He waited a few seconds, then said, “Yo ho ho, guess you’re not home.”
I heard the door shut, but I didn’t know whether he was inside or out.
Until I heard his footsteps on the carpet.
He must be Murphy’s best friend or brother or something. You don’t give a spare key to just anyone.
I heard the television come on. It sounded like CNN’s Headline News.
That’s right, I thought. Sit down in the living room and watch some TV news. Just stay put. Don’t move. Murphy’ll be home pretty soon. He’ll figure a way to steer you out of the place, and you’ll never be the wiser.
From the TV came a nifty British voice talking about tribal massacres in some African country. Zaire or Rwanda or some damn place.
Suddenly, during a pause in the broadcast, I heard footsteps again. These were quiet, as if the intruder had taken off his shoes.
Going into the kitchen for a beer?
The only route to the kitchen—or just about anywhere else in the apartment—would take him past the open bedroom door.
I shut my eyes and went limp.
The footsteps suddenly stopped. The intruder said, “Whoa!”
I kept my eyes shut and tried to keep my breathing shallow and slow.
Let him think I’m out cold or dead or something. I sure didn’t want to strike up a conversation with the guy.
“What the hell’s going on here?” he muttered, and came walking slowly into the room. “Lady?” he asked.
I didn’t stir.
He said, “My God, what’s Murphy
He sounded as if he were standing at the foot of the bed. I tried not to think about the view he had. But I could feel myself blushing.
I was blushing, sweating, and my heart was pounding fast. Couldn’t he see any of that?
“Wow,” he said. “Oh, Murphy, Murphy. How’d you land a babe like this?”
Down between my legs, the mattress sank in.
The mattress shook, making me wobble.
A hand patted me on the thigh. Very high up on my thigh.
“Hello?” he asked. “Young lady? Can you hear me?”
I didn’t respond.
“Must be out cold,” he muttered.
Moments later, a light fabric fell across my face.
Then two hands were gently caressing my thighs. “What a piece,” he muttered. “Man, oh man. Murph, you lucky dog. No wonder you tied her down. Couldn’t let something like this get away from you.”
His tongue got me. I gasped and flinched with the sudden shock of it, and knew the game was up. With no more need to play possum, I writhed as his mouth stayed where it was and his hands roamed up my body and found my breasts. He caressed them, gently massaged them, squeezed my nipples and pulled while his tongue flicked and delved. Soon, I was panting, thrashing against the ropes.
His mouth lifted off me. “Looks like I’ve awakened Sleeping Beauty. Does this mean I’m a prince?”
It was the same, fake voice.
But this time, I recognized the mind behind it.
“You bastard!” I gasped out.
Opening my eyes, I found a pale blue shirt on top of my face.
Murphy swept it aside and smiled down at me. He was kneeling between my legs, totally naked and erect.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.
“What do you think?”
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“Good,” he said. Then he came down and planted his mouth on my mouth and pushed himself slowly into me until I had all of him. Then he pulled most of the way out, and thrust in so hard that the ropes bit into my ankles and I yelped into his mouth.
He murmured, “Sorry.”
Then he clutched me by the shoulders to hold me still so the ropes wouldn’t hurt me again.
And went at it.
He went crazy on me, plunging and ramming as if he needed to get someplace where nobody’d ever gone before.
By damn, I think he succeeded.
He blew the roof off the joint, so to speak.
I’d never gone through anything like it. My guess is, neither had he.
When he was done, he stayed inside and settled down heavily on top of me, gasping for air. When he could talk, he said, “Are you okay?”
I answered by flexing some muscles down there.
He said, “Ooooh.”
After a while, I said, “That was a rotten trick, you know.”
“Huh?”
“Faking me out. Pretending you were somebody else.”
“Oh. That. Yeah. Figured I owed you one.”
“Very nice.”
“I enjoyed it,” he said.
“You’ve got a real mean streak,” I told him.
“That makes two of us.”
“So, did you get the money okay?”
