The Lake

through the dark curly hairs spreading across his hard belly.

Down to his huge erection.

She grasped it and took it in her mouth until he came, writhing, moaning, spurting into her. Sobbing and gagging, she swallowed his come.

Gasping, tears running down her face, she lay with her head between his legs, panting, breathless. Pulling her up against his chest, he massaged the backs of her thighs with firm, smooth strokes.

His mouth found hers again; he took her tongue and sucked at it, hard. As he shifted slightly, his pubic hairs rubbed against her belly. Then, with a strength she wasn’t expecting, he shoved a hand inside her.

Aaaaghhh…

She cried out. In shock. In pain.

With a catlike movement Charlie was on top, thrusting himself deep into her center. Pounding into her, gouging, shaking her body to the core. She rose to meet him, raw, hurting, pressing herself against him, raking herself up and down his shaft till she could take no more.

He came into her again. And again. Still gasping, crying a little, she lay back on the tousled, sweat-soaked sheet. Charlie lay on his side, looking down at her, hungrily.

Panting. Wanting more.

Playing with her dark, softening nipples.

She felt the hard ache rise again…

“Charlie,” she breathed, closing her eyes, lifting her arms to hold him.

But Charlie leapt up, grabbed his shirt, and thrust his arms into it. Fumbling with the buttons, he gave up trying and dragged on his jeans.

Hopping from one leg to the other, he looked almost comical.

Except it wasn’t funny.

Leigh was in shock.

Crying out in disbelief: “Charlie?”

Astounded.

Bereft.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave me now… not like this…”

“I gotta I gotta…,” he stammered desperately. “I promised Mom I’d be home for supper. She thinks I’m out collecting wood for tomorrow… I gotta go… I just gotta…”

He looked around wildly.

Torn. Willing himself to be somewhere else.

Night shadows had gathered. She couldn’t make out his features.

Couldn’t see if he was disappointed.

What had gone wrong?

Had she been too forward?

Whatever. Looks like she’d frightened him off…

And now he was leaving her.

But he couldn’t.

Not when we’ve had it so good together.

Nothing, no one, is gonna keep us apart!

She sprang up and grabbed him; he wrenched away from her urgent, shaking hands grasping his shirt, holding on to him.

“Mom’ll be looking for me. She’s expecting me…”

They fell to the floor, struggling, fighting. He rolled away from her.

Pushed himself up.

Unable to believe what was happening, she reached out to hold him.

He fell back, away from her, shoving an elbow hard on the floorboards. With a rending, splitting sound the rotten floor gave under his weight.

He plummeted to the ground below.

She stared at the black space where the floor, where Charlie, had been.

Hearing his low, hurt grunt as he hit rock bottom.

The dull crack that was a thud and a splish! all at the same time.

Like a ripe melon bursting open.

Terrified, Leigh scrambled to her feet.

“Charlie oh my God Charlie Charlie! Wait, I’m coming I’m coming.”

Naked, she bounded across the landing and took the stairs, two, three at a time.

Ouch.

Shit!

She caught her toe in a broken stair and stumbled.

Flinging out her arms, she clawed at the balustrade, almost falling headlong.

No need to search for Charlie.

His legs sprawled at weird angles in the room facing her.

“Charlie. I’m here. Don’t move…”

Then her heart stood still.

She was terribly afraid.

More afraid than she’d ever been in all of her eighteen years.

Her stomach turned to ice.

But she went forward, through the doorway.

To get to Charlie.

Lying there.

So still.

She was in an old-fashioned kitchen. Dark with shadows. Shuttered windows. Narrow rays of the setting sun carving through dust motes rising from where he’d fallen, in an awkward nest of wood and flaking bits of plaster.

She stared at Charlie.

“Oh, God. NO! NO NO NO-OOO!!!”

Forced herself to look at what had been his head.

Clumps of brown hair clinging to slivers of scalp, scattered in a mess of brain and shattered skull.

Slimed with matter, the base of the stove poked through the red mush of Charlie’s face. An eye, a bloodshot globe attached to bloody strings, escaped from its socket.

Leigh stared. The eye slipped a little.

Showing the brown iris.

It knows I’m watching it. It’s smiling Charlie’s smile at me…

Leigh heaved, swayed, doubled over, and slid to her knees on the dusty clay floor.

Breath burst from her lungs in great, ragged gasps.

Hot, chunky vomit rose in her throat.

This, this… wasn’t… couldn’t be Charlie.

Charlie’s beautiful, strong—and he loves me. I know that. He loves me…

Taking one last look at Charlie, flaked with dust and plaster like a discarded tailor’s dummy, she fled down the passageway, out onto the stoop, and stumbled down the steps.

Whimpering.

Fighting back vomit.

Sobbing, muttering, as she ran.

Straight into the small, rigid figure of a woman.

Charlie’s mother.

Thin, birdlike.

Openmouthed.