Come Out Tonight - By Richard Laymon Page 0,19

in for repairs?”

“Oh, I’d manage somehow,” Sherry said.

When did I tell him about my car trouble? she wondered.

In the silence, she heard the wind howling and hissing outside the car.

“Anyway,” she said, “west LA doesn’t have brush fires. Everything’s paved. But if I did have to get away, I’m sure I could talk someone into giving me a ride.”

“So, you don’t want to spend the night at my house?”

“It’s nice of you to invite me, Toby. Maybe I can see your house some other time.”

“Oh, okay.”

“For now, I guess I just want to go back to the Speed-D-Mart and see about Duane’s van.”

“You sure that’s what you want?”

“I think so.”

“Okay.” He reached for the ignition and put his hand on the key, but didn’t turn it. Looking at Sherry, he said, “I bet you’re wondering how come I knew your car was in the repair shop.”

“I must’ve mentioned it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then I guess I do wonder.”

“I know because I followed you there.”

“Huh?”

She felt a sudden squirm of apprehension.

“I’ve been following you everywhere.”

“What’re you—?”

His arm swung out and the back of his fist crashed against Sherry’s brow. The impact jolted her head backward. As it bounced off the headrest, Toby clutched the nape of her neck. He jerked her toward him, dragging her out from under the chest harness.

The lap belt was too loose to keep her up.

She fell sideways, landing with her shoulder on the driver’s seat and her head on Toby’s lap.

He pressed her head down with his left hand.

Then he let go of her neck, leaned toward the passenger seat, raised his arm high and brought his fist down like a hammer. It sledged Sherry in the side, pounding deep into the soft area below her ribcage and above her hip.

Pain erupted through her body. Her breath exploded out.

Chapter Ten

As his left hand kept Sherry’s head pressed against his lap, his right clutched the side of her blouse and yanked it out of her skirt. Then he slid his hand under her blouse. It felt cold as ice.

Though stunned by the blows, Sherry clamped her right arm against her side to block his way.

“Get your arm outa there,” Toby said.

She didn’t move it.

“Okay.”

As his right hand gently patted her bare flank, his left ripped the earring from her pierced lobe.

With a squeak of pain, Sherry flinched and grabbed her torn ear.

Her arm no longer barred Toby’s way.

As his hand glided up her side, goosebumps swarmed over her skin.

She brought her arm down fast. Just as it trapped his forearm against the side of her ribcage, his cold hand cupped her breast.

He moaned.

Sherry felt movement under the side of her face. Movement under the fabric of Toby’s shorts.

A blunt hardness rose out of his soft lap. It pushed against her cheek as if trying to raise her head, then tilted away. She felt the solid length of it from her jaw to her temple.

Squirming, Toby drifted his hand over her breast as lightly as a breeze. She felt her skin crawling, her hard nipple tingling and aching.

He fingered her nipple, gave it a gentle squeeze.

Then suddenly he clutched her breast, kneading it and squirming and making sounds that were almost sobs as the stiffness under Sherry’s face jumped and throbbed. She tried to raise her head, but Toby shoved it down tight against the jerking front of his shorts. He thrust up against her. In his frenzy, he squeezed her breast so hard that she cried out.

And it ended.

He let out a long, trembling sigh. His left hand stopped shoving her head. His right hand relaxed its grip on her breast. He settled down in the seat and panted for air.

Under her face, Sherry felt moist warmth spreading across the fabric of his shorts.

She felt a trickle down the side of her neck and figured it must be blood from her ear lobe.

She didn’t move. She said nothing.

Toby slowly calmed down. After a while, he whispered, “Wow.” Then he took his hand out from under Sherry’s blouse and drew the blouse down to her hip. “You’re so great,” he said.

Thanks a heap, you sick fuck.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Did I hurt you?”

What do you think?

“A little,” she said.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His left hand, still resting on Sherry’s head, began to caress the side of her face. “The last thing I wanta do is hurt you.”

Could’ve fooled me.

“I guess I got carried away,” he said.

“It’s all right,” Sherry told him. “I understand.”

I understand plenty.

“Do you hate me?” he asked.

“No, I

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