After Midnight

“Yep. Everything went smooth as silk.”

I gave him a couple more flexes, and felt him starting to grow.

“How come no condom?” I asked.

“Didn’t see much point. Not after the way you got me before.”

“For which you decided to pay me back by impersonating a stranger and scaring me shitless.”

“Not exactly.”

“No?”

“That’s just…the way it turned out. What I’d planned to do was come straight in, strip naked and jump on you. No tricks. But when I showed up, there was a bunch of Jehovah’s Witnesses at the front door.”

“You’re kidding. That was a Jehovah’s Witness ringing the doorbell?”

“Yep.”

“Never figured that.”

“I figured you were probably freaking.”

“I wasn’t freaking.”

He laughed. It felt strange and great, the way he shook on top of me and deep inside me while he laughed.

“I might’ve been mildly concerned,” I admitted.

He laughed some more.

“What freaked me,” I explained, “was when some sneaky, rotten son-of-a-bitch unlocked the door and came in.”

“That was me,” he said.

I said, “Duh.”

He laughed again.

“Bastard.”

“You loved it.”

“Not the trick, I didn’t. That really stank.”

“Who did you think I was?”

“One of your horny buddies. Or maybe a brother.”

“Whoever you thought I was, you must’ve liked him. I didn’t hear any complaints.”

“That’s only because I was trying to play possum.”

“If you hadn’t been playing possum, you would’ve seen right away that it was only me. The moment I walked into the bedroom. I didn’t throw the shirt over your face until pretty far along.”

“What if I hadn’t figured it was you?” I asked. “Were you just going to screw me and leave, so I’d go on thinking it was someone else?”

“I knew you’d recognize me. I’m surprised it took you as long as it did.”

“It was the prince crack,” I explained, and had to smile.

“Ah, well.”

“When I heard that, I knew it was you.”

“Not only beautiful, but smart.”

“That’s me,” I said. Turning my head, I kissed the side of his face. Then I asked, “You gonna let me up, now?”

“Maybe I will and maybe I won’t.”

“My hands and feet are numb.”

“Oh. Uh-oh.” He pushed himself up and slid out of me. Frowning, he said, “I should’ve untied you first thing. I didn’t realize the ropes were that tight. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s fine.”

Kneeling over my chest, he leaned forward, reached out with both hands, and started trying to untie my left wrist.

It reminded me a lot of my Judy dream.

Except that Judy’d had breasts and a knife.

Soon, Murphy managed to pluck open the knot. He loosened the rope around my wrist, and I pulled my hand free. It really was numb. I shook it, trying to get some feeling back, while he worked on the knot at my other wrist.

“I shouldn’t have made these so tight,” he muttered.

“Had to make it look good.”

“Not really,” he said. “I came back without any cops.”

“See? It worked.”

He laughed, and kept on struggling with the knot.

With circulation coming back, my left hand began to feel hot and get pins and needles. I kept flapping it around and wiggling my fingers.

“This one’s sure tight,” he said.

“Maybe you should get a knife.”

“Yeah. That might save a lot of trouble.”

He tried for another few seconds, then climbed off me and the bed.

“Back in a second,” he said.

I raised my head off the pillow and watched him stride toward the doorway. His tan stopped just above his rear end, and started again at the tops of his legs. His ass looked pale as cream, and smooth. The firm, round buttocks took turns flexing as he walked.

In the doorway, he turned around.

I liked the front view better.

Leaning sideways, he rested a shoulder against the door frame and smiled at me. “Can I get you anything else while I’m in the kitchen? A glass of water for your Morning Dehydration Syndrome? A Pepsi? A beer?”

“Just hurry, okay? If I’m tied up much longer, something may have to get amputated.”

He raised his eyebrows. “If anything has to come off, may I have it?”

37

IDENTITY CRISIS

“Very funny,” I muttered.

“I’ll take anything. I’m not picky.”

“Every piece of me is precious?”

“You got it.”

“Go!”

He laughed and hurried away.

With my free left hand, I reached under the pillow and grabbed the miniature cassette. I thought about hiding it on my person, so to speak. But what if Murphy decided to have another go at me while it was in there?

So I just slid it between my back and the mattress, where it would be easy to reach.

I no sooner had it out of sight than Murphy came hurrying in with a knife. He carried it in his right hand, down low by his side. Its blade, at least eight inches long, was straight out and pointing at me.

The blade wasn’t all that was pointing at me.

They were level with each other, both tilting at the same slightly upward angle, and one about as long as the other. While the knife swung back and forth at the end of Murphy’s arm, the thick shaft bounced and swayed with each step he took.

“You come well armed,” I said.

He smirked and shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

Stopping beside my right hand, he bent over and eased the blade down onto the rope. He wouldn’t be going for the knot, but for the clothesline itself where it was tight around my wrist. Only the thickness of the rope—less