23 – Freely given

 

 

The tapping made him look up from his desk, the receipts for two-months staring up at him with hints of ruin. If he didn't get a shipment soon, his empire would crumble, and the intricate web of loyalty would attach itself elsewhere. Access to drugs was everything. The knock came again.

 "Yes?" he said, pulling off his reading glasses with one hand as he reached for the desk drawer with the other. No one could have gotten passed his guards and yet...

 Leonard in Las Vegas. Evans in Seattle. And a half-dozen lesser names rose in his head. All dead. Their empires vanquished.

 His fingers closed around the pearl-handled woman's revolver that had been his mother's. Small caliber, but deadly at close range.

 The door eased open. "Hello," the careful voice said, probing the room from the darkness outside.

 Gil fingered the safety off but kept the weapon on his lap.

 "Come in if you're coming," he snapped, then relaxed as the face of the hippie woman moved into the light. She seemed frightened by the darkness. Only his desk lamp glowed, a gold island of illumination encircling his desk and chair. All else was invisible. "Can I help you, Sarah?"

 "Yeah-- well..." she looked shy, like a girl just out of high school in the presence of an older man. He had noticed her infatuation earlier.

 "Come closer to the light," Gil said, pushing his pistol back into the drawer. "Just lock the door behind you."

 She complied, then eased closer, her round face straight out of Eastern European stock with just enough color in her eyes and cheeks to make her attractive. Or was it her adoration. Others had come to him. But over the years he'd grown tired of indulging, and lately, had become something of a recluse. He felt himself react.

 "What brings you here?" he asked.

 She blushed, her gaze rising to meet his, her blue eyes caught with embers from the fire. "I wanted to... see you," she said.

 "About what?"

 "About staying here-- with you."

 He didn't smile-- though he had expected the usual indirect approach, the hints and suggestions common with such women. The up-front approach was refreshing.

 "What about your friend-- the pacifist?"

 "Lance doesn't mean anything to me anymore," she said, spitting out the words.

 "But he will expect you to leave with him when he goes."

 "I don't care," she said, easing closer, the wisp of her clothing loud in the silence. He noticed her open shirt and the lack of a bra. Her breasts swelled against the opening. He shook himself and pushed up from the desk. But she moved around the side coming closer and closer, alarms ringing in his head, the panic alarms of an isolated man, easily victimized, always on guard.

 "Make love to me," she whispered.

                 ***********

 "You can't stay here," he said, kicking at the blankets and sheets mounted at the foot of the bed.

 "Why not?" she asked, lying beside him, staring up at the ceiling, her naked form as attractive in the light as it had been in darkness.

 "Because you still love your pacifist," Gil said.

 "Bullshit!" she snapped. "He's nothing but a wimp!"

 "You say that because you're angry at him. But you don't mean it. The minute he's gone, you'll be miserable."

 "You seem to know a lot about it. Wasn't I good enough for you?"

 Better than anyone in a long time, he thought.

 "That's not the point. Good or not, you don't belong here. And if you hated Denver, you'll hate it here."

 "But I like you," she said, hinting of future encounters.

 "You're using me to get even with him."

 She sat up glaring. "You seemed to like using my body," she growled.

 "It was freely offered," he said

 "I could tell Lance."

 "And what would he do? Kill me?" Gil laughed.

 "He might. He knows how to kill. They taught him that in the army."

 "But he won't. Not even for you."

 "You're cruel!" she shouted, jumping up from the bed.

 He smiled. "Maybe. But don't threaten me with the unlikely. And don't tell me you're carrying my baby. I'm quite sterile."

 She started to say something, but her mouth clamped shut. She grabbed up her loose clothing from out of the shadows and marched out with them. He listened to her snap open the lock and leave, then rose to relock the door behind her, regretting the necessity of sending her away.

 

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email to Al Sullivan

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