Come Out Tonight - By Richard Laymon Page 0,83

Pete said.

Sherry said, “Me, too.”

“We’ll rip him a new one,” Jeff said.

Pete worked his way downward, pouring hydrogen peroxide, patting her wounds, littering the concrete around his feet with used cotton balls as he crouched lower, following the scratches and scrapes and gouges down her body.

“Do you know the guy’s name?” Jeff asked.

Pete stared between her legs. She had a few raw places.

Should I ask permission?

You know what the answer’ll be, he told himself. Just do it.

He poured the fluid onto a fresh ball of cotton, then reached out and gently patted the wound. Sherry flinched.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’ve got cuts or something.”

“He…bit me.”

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

Pete moaned.

Jeff muttered, “Oh, man.”

“Go ahead,” Sherry said.

Pete glided the dripping wad along the soft, fleshy edges, thinking, Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe she’s letting me.”

Done, he began swabbing the wounds on her right thigh.

Jeff moved in with the salve on his fingertip.

Pete watched.

Sherry squirmed a little, then said, “I can’t…can’t remember his name.”

“Whoever he is, I wanta kill him.”

Bending over slightly, Sherry reached down and rubbed the top of Jeff’s head. “Thanks,” she said. “But that’s…my job.”

Chapter Forty-two

Toby stood under the shower just long enough to rinse off the blood. Then he shut off the water and climbed out of the tub. He didn’t bother with a towel. Water running down his body, he stepped over to the counter. He frowned at the bloody power drill, then at the box cutter.

The cutter was still fairly clean.

He snatched it off the counter and walked through the house. On his way past the den, he noticed Sid on the floor. There was a nasty puddle under his head.

What’m I gonna do about that?

“First things first,” he muttered.

In the living room, he went to the glass door and slid it open. He stepped outside.

Dawn was still stretched out face-down on the poolside lounge. Her arms, no longer against her sides, were folded underneath her head. As before, her face was turned to her left—toward Toby.

He figured her eyes must be shut.

If they’d been open, she would’ve yelled by now.

Probably asleep, he thought.

Cutter behind his back, he walked slowly toward Dawn.

Her right eye was definitely shut.

They’ve both gotta be shut or she’d be raising hell.

The top of her string bikini was still untied. The way her arms were raised, Toby could see her bare side all the way down to the lime green waistband of her thong. Her left breast, its side bare, seemed to be resting loosely on the limp pouch of her top.

He squatted down beside her for a better view.

Her smooth, tanned skin glistened with oil and sweat.

From the way her ribcage slowly expanded and contracted, Toby figured she must be asleep.

He reached down to her hip with the cutter, eased the tip of its razor-sharp blade underneath her waistband, and gently lifted. The strip of fabric parted.

Her side was now bare all the way down.

Dawn slept on.

Toby stood up, stepped around to the other side of the lounge, then crouched and severed the right side of her waistband.

He stood up. Holding the cutter in his teeth, he bent over her and gently drew the thong downward, easing it out of the crevice. She didn’t seem to notice. He let it fall into the space between her thighs.

Then he stepped back and took a deep, shaky breath.

Fantastic, he thought.

His heart was pounding quick and hard. His mouth was dry. His rigid penis ached.

Now what? he wondered.

He stepped around to her left side. Crouching, he clamped the cutter between his teeth.

Dawn still seemed to be sleeping.

He caught the dangling string of her bikini top and slowly, carefully, tied it to the aluminum tubing at the side of the lounger.

Then he took hold of the aluminum frame with both hands.

Ready…Set…

He lurched upward, jerking the lounger off the concrete, tumbling Dawn off the other side. She let out a cry of alarm. Her lime green top stayed with the lounger. The pad started to go with her, but Toby grabbed it. Dawn smacked the concrete and grunted.

Toby hurled the lounger and pad out of his way.

Dawn was sprawled on the concrete, naked, the rag of her ruined thong draping her right thigh, a look on her face as if she didn’t know what was going on but knew she didn’t like it. Blinking, she turned her face toward Toby. Her eyes suddenly grew wide.

Toby took the box cutter out of his teeth.

She stared at it.

“Hey,” she said. “Hey.”

“You’re my girl now,” Toby

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