Come Out Tonight - By Richard Laymon Page 0,32

waved her arms and fell backward and slammed against the floor. The impact jolted her, hurt her, but she shoved at the floor and started to sit up.

“Yeeeeee!” Toby keened. He crawled off Jim’s back and scurried toward her on his knuckles and knees, a knife in each fist, a grin on his bloody face. “Yeeeeee!”

“No!” she cried out, shoving at the carpet with her heels and elbows, sliding on the seat of her skirt, scooting herself away from him but not fast enough.

Not nearly fast enough.

I’ve gotta get up!

The back of her head bumped against Duane’s bed.

Toby suddenly let go of the knives and lunged forward, reaching for her feet.

He missed her left foot, but caught her right with one hand. Then he had both hands around her ankle. Thrashing, she kicked at him with her other foot. He lurched backward and stood up, lifting and pulling her leg.

She twisted and writhed, kicking at him, trying for his naked groin though she couldn’t see it, her own high legs in the way.

The heel of her shoe struck him. He grunted, then let go with one hand and caught her left ankle.

He jerked both her feet wide apart.

And stared down at her, grinning and gasping, his naked body dribbling with blood and sweat.

She knew her blouse was wide open. He wasn’t staring at her breasts, though. His gaze was latched on her groin. With her skirt rumpled around her waist, she could see the panties herself—the black string across her pale skin, the narrow panel of transparent black fabric between her legs.

“Toby,” she gasped.

His eyes went to her face.

“I’ll…make you…a deal.”

“Huh?”

“We’ll…go someplace. I won’t…fight you. I won’t try…to get away.”

Shaking his head, he sank to his knees. He let go of her ankles. With both hands, he grabbed the waistband of her panties. He tugged it away from her right hip and tried to break it. The elastic stretched but didn’t pop. Gritting his teeth, he pulled harder.

Sherry clutched his wrists.

“Not here,” she said.

“Wanta bet?”

“What if the cops come?” She panted for air. “We’ve made…a lot of noise. Somebody might’ve heard us and…”

“Phones don’t work, remember?”

“Cell phones do.”

“I don’t care. Let go.”

She released his wrists.

He jerked hard, breaking the waistband and yanking the panties halfway down her left thigh.

“We leave now,” Sherry said. She squirmed as his fingers explored her, but she didn’t resist. And she kept on talking. “Duane’s got a cell phone in his van. We call and get ’em to send an ambulance for Jim. Maybe they can save him.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you want.”

The hand went away. He slipped his fingers into his mouth and sucked them.

“Please,” Sherry said. “I don’t want Jim to die. I’ll go with you. But we’ve gotta go now and…”

Throwing himself forward, Toby grabbed her shoulders and dropped onto her. He grunted and rammed, shoving at her but not into her, missing her center, sliding against the crease of her groin and suddenly throbbing, spurting out warm fluid. Making little whimpery sounds, he kept shoving, prodding her, rubbing her through the slippery gush as he pulsed out more and more.

Done, he sagged on top of her.

Sherry put her arms around him and held him gently.

He panted for breath.

“I…didn’t make it in,” he gasped.

“That’s okay,” she said. She felt as if he’d poured glue onto her. It was rolling down her groin and into the crevice between her buttocks. “Next time, I’ll help you. But not here. Right now, we’ve gotta get going before the cops show up.”

“Cops?” He raised his head and blinked down at her. He had a dull look in his eyes.

“Do you want the cops to get you?”

He shook his head.

“Then we’ve gotta leave as fast as we can. Okay? We’ll go somewhere else. But I’ll stay with you. I won’t try to get away anymore.”

He pushed himself off Sherry and stood up. Then he stared at her.

Her blouse was wide open, her skirt rumpled up around her waist, her panties hanging around her left knee. Squirming inside, she resisted an urge to cover herself.

“You need a shower,” Toby said.

She looked up at his sweaty, blood-smeared body. “We both do,” she said.

He turned away from her, crouched and picked up the knives. Facing her again, he said, “Get up and come here.”

She stood, but remained where she was.

“Come here,” he said again.

“What’re we gonna do?”

“Anything I say.”

She had a sudden urge to look over her shoulder and see if Duane’s head was really there

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