Free Drawing Blood by C.D. Breadner

up, knowing he was frowning. “I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, you’re beautiful. I could hear your laugh from across the room. You just … you caught my eye.” He couldn’t very well say his friend had told him not to go for fancy hair and make-up.
    She was smiling. She believed him.
    He put the towel down and stood up, letting his pants drop to the floor.  He stepped out of the legs and got his feet out of his socks without looking too much like a goon ... hopefully. She watched him approach, rolling on her side. Her breasts slid over as she did and it was the only thing he could concentrate on. He climbed up over her, and she rolled her hips and stretched out on her back below him. David lowered his weight down, aware of how soft her skin was; how warm she felt. Her breasts and stomach cushioned him. Her legs came up to his waist, wrapping around him as her arms slid around his back.
    He kissed her again, and this time the tentative lip lock was gone. She admitted his tongue immediately, stroking at his mouth hotly and her hands clutched his waist, nails digging in. Her hips moved under his, rubbing against him. His release was immediately forgotten. He was ready again.
    Daphne realized it and gave a sound of encouragement. When she pulled away from his lips it was to ask if he had “anything.”
    He sought out his uniform. He had condoms; never left the base without them. He looked back to her, nodding. Then he reluctantly got up and crossed the room to retrieve them. As he made his way back to the bed she started wriggling out of her panties.
    He dropped his shorts, got the contraceptive in place and fell back on her in a flurry of hot hands, seeking lips, grunts and groans. She urged him on with her hips, and as he entered she pulled away from his mouth to cry out.  Then she fell back to kissing him and David let her muffled cries carry him away.
     

Chapter Ten
    Abigail
     
    Abigail was just about to open the door to the secret shelter when she heard footsteps on her porch. She froze where she was. That was the side of the house not visible from the road. No one used that door; especially not after curfew.
    She kicked off her shoes and silently crept through the kitchen then across the quietest of the floorboards in the dining room. The blinds were all drawn, as per curfew rules, but someone was moving around on the porch outside. Abigail peeked around the edge of the blind on the door, and she frowned. It was a man she didn’t recognize … but at least he didn’t have a German uniform on.
    She unlocked the dead bolt and swung the door inward quickly. It surprised him, and he swing around with a hand going to his hip.
    Gun, she thought, but then his coat swung in to place and she couldn’t see it to be completely sure.  When he actually saw her his look of surprise turned to confusion. “ Dois-je la mauvaise maison? Où sont les Meservieres? ”
    Abigail tried to keep up with his rapid-fire questions. The Meservieres might have been the people her father bought the house from, but she honestly couldn’t remember. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “ Parlez-vous anglais? ”
    “I do. Who are you?”
    “Abigail Spencer. My parents bought this house almost three years ago.”
    “I see. They must have bought it from my aunt and uncle. I did not know they moved. I was worried about them.”
    Abigail’s internal truth meter gave a ding. Aunt and uncle indeed. This seemed a strange time and place to visit if one wasn’t sure their family even lived somewhere anymore.
    She scanned him quickly, noting that the boots he wore looked a lot like army-issue. His face was friendly and the hair style didn’t match. That cut didn’t look like his idea, but it was familiar to anyone in military service. This was a member of the French army, which made him a criminal if he wasn’t in a prisoner camp somewhere.
    She didn’t feel any more scared than she had before, but she preferred he wasn’t in her house,