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around the curve of the sectional sofa. Shelly s face went dry and tight.
It was all over. The show boat had gone .round the bend for the final
performance. It was enough to make a grown man shatter and bawl.hundreds of
thousands of bucks flying South for the duration. Shelly leaned over the
sofa, prepared to see Jean Friedel s throat blue with finger impressions, the
eyes wide and staring nowhere, the body twisted where she had fallen. He
stared at her for a long moment, swallowing hard, before he realized he was
not seeing what he was seeing. Stag Preston was lying unconscious at the
side of the sofa. .I hit him with a bottle of after-shave lotion,. Jean
Friedel said, coming in from the bedroom. She stepped over the remains of a
straight chair that had been used to club open the door. .Wrecked hell out of
the bottle.. She held it up; it Spider Kiss by Harlan Ellison 92 had been
shattered at the base of its two-foot stem. Shelly realized the pervasive
smell of strong men s scent hung in the suite. .Jeezus epileptic Keerist,
baby, you have just jobbed my meal ticket!. Shelly climbed over the back of
the sofa and plopped down, his feet on Stag Preston s stomach. He lit a
cigarette and stared down woefully at the unconscious singer. .Keerist!.
.Don t cry, little man,. Jean said, dropping the neck of the bottle on the
rug. She came toward him, sat down with her bare feet on Preston s thigh.
.He ll survive. He ll probably want a few of those little Bufferin B s
zonking around in his system, but he ll survive.. She yawned, moving her head
in a short arc as a tired driver might do it after a night turnpiking it
behind the wheel. .Who do I have to assassinate to get a drink?. Shelly
puffed out his cheeks and rose. The bar was a shelf in the kitchen. .What s
your reward, Joan of Arc?. .Has he got branch water in there?. Shelly
rummaged and came up with a half-filled bottle. .Bourbon and branch?. .Just
fine.. He heard the record player click the beginning of its cycle. As he
mixed, the saccharine tones of a Jackie Gleason record lofted through the
suite. When he brought her the glass, she was back on the sofa, legs
stretched out before her. .None for you?. He handed over the bourbon. .That s
all I d need; on top of all the adrenaline I d have a beautiful case of
Seventy-Day Sour Stomach. By the way, thanks a bunch, Rapunzel.. Spider
Kiss by Harlan Ellison 93 .For what?. She quirked an eyebrow, then sipped
daintily. .For alarming my ulcers. My specialist ll love you for it; might
even give you a little taste for piecework above and beyond.. He lit a
cigarette, his hands shaking slightly. Beside him, the girl smiled thinly.
.Shelly, would you mind dousing some of the light?. He turned and examined
her expression. There seemed to be no ridicule there, no taunting; she had
said it very matterof- factly. .What is this, prelude to a seduction?. he
asked. .The beautiful barefoot seductress, the Jackie Gleason background,
and now, .Shelly, would you mind plunging us into darkness?. Come on,
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Jeanie, don t tell me I look good to you suddenly?. She gave him a peculiar
smile over the lip of the glass. .Well, it s not that. Maybe I m just seeing
you differently for the first time.. .What in the hell is that supposed to
mean?. She let loose the same peculiar smile. .You must have left your
apartment in a hurry ... your fly is open.. He started, looked down, saw it
was so, and felt himself turning red all the way down to the exposed area.
.Oh, Jeezus!. he blurted, leaping and zipping. She was lying back against
the arm of the sectional now, laughter coming in short, sharp buffets. He
continued to blush, grew angry, flustered, bemused, amused and convulsed, all
in the space of a few seconds. When their mutual laughter subsided, he was
slumped against her, and the scent of perfume on her neck overrode the smell
of after-shave lotion in the air. Spider Kiss by Harlan Ellison 94
Without realizing, they flowed. Their mouths touched and the drink bounced
once on the carpet, spilling in a dark, living stain. .The light ... get the
light.... she murmured against his tongue, muffled and desperate. He didn t
listen till she had jacked her knee into his side. .Get the light, damn you!.
It was one of those scenes out of a Mack Sennett comedy. Shelly running
zigzag about the suite, flipping switches. When he returned to the sofa, he
knew she was naked, even before he touched her. She had done a workmanlike
job on Stag. He dozed with childlike abandon till well after the third round.
.Later,. he said, later, .they lay looking into the smoke spirals, wondering
at the nature of the evil bond that now bound them.. .Lovely,. she
commented, drawing on her cigarette. .Frances Parkinson Keyes?. .Aimee
Semple McPherson,. he replied. .If you believe.. She nudged him. .Move over,
I m half on the floor.. .This is so sudden, Miss Friedel.. He slid sidewise.
.You know,. he said, .you ve got a very hip looking.. .Forget it, de Sade,.
she said cutting him off. Figuratively. .Or I ll get dressed.. He had the
abruptly distressing thought that nakedness offended her ... lights off ...
quick puffs on the cigarettes casting ruby highlights across her breasts ... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
