Free Madman's Thirst by Lawrence de Maria Page A

anxious. What about you?”
     “The same. Should we break into a
trot, or maybe a gallop?”
    “There’s a difference between
trying not to look anxious and being ridiculous. Besides, we might get hit by a
bus.”
    “Well, we’d really be fucked then,
wouldn’t we!”
    “You are tipsy.”
     Laughing, they finally reached
her building, a three-story brownstone. After closing the gleaming mahogany
front doors behind them, Scarne remarked on the “new home” smell.
    “We just completed a custom
renovation. Cost a bloody fortune. My brothers started it, and, well, I had to
finish, didn’t I? Next step is redecoration. Place is a bit masculine, don’t
you think. Becky’s room is the only one with any color. Couldn’t wait on that.
Want a quick tour?”
    “Very quick.”
    She laughed and led him through
the downstairs.
    “We kept four original marble mantelpieces ,
but just about everything else is redone.” Passing a den on their left and a
staircase to the upper floors, they went through a parlor with white oak
flooring into a large maple kitchen with a center island surrounded by the most
modern appliances including a ConServ “Eco-Fridge” refrigerator, a
Fisher-Paykel “double-dish drawer” dishwasher and a dual-level Imperial gas
range and oven.
    Scarne
pushed a few buttons on the latter.
    “Nice,”
he said. “What time is lift-off?” He smiled. “I’m a Whirlpool kind of guy
myself.”
    “My
brothers aren’t,” Emma said. “Toys for boys.”
    A door
at the rear of the kitchen opened out to a deck and small garden. A spiral
staircase twirled up to the roof.
    “Where’s the maid?’
    “I gave her the day off.”
    Walking back to the foyer, he
asked, “Have I been set up? Sounds like you planned our afternoon like D-Day.”
    Emma laughed, and, startlingly for
her, ran her hand down the front of Scarne’s trousers.
    “You can always go back to your
ship, sailor.”
    He made a grab for her and she
twirled away, laughing.
     “I want to take a quick shower,”
she said as she headed up the stairs. “My bedroom is on the second floor. Just
follow the running water. There’s a nice bottle of Veuve Clicquot in the fridge
and an ice bucket on the counter with flutes. Why don’t you bring it up with
you?”
    “I take it back, Emma, Eisenhower
and Monty had nothing on you.”
    She was still in the shower when
Scarne left the champagne by the side of the bed and shucked off his clothes.
Her back was facing him when he entered the steamy room but she turned at the
blast of cooler air. He stepped into the stall and took the soap from her hands
and started washing her back as she leaned into him.
    “Ouch,” she said, reaching down. “That
doesn’t go there.” They both laughed. She sat down on a bather’s ledge in the
corner and alternately raised her legs and braced them against his upper thigh
so that he could do a better job. Then she stood and took the soap began
lathering him. They let the water run a few minutes to get the soap off and
then she said, “I can’t wait” and pulled Scarne’s right hand between her legs.
He began stroking and she tightened her arms around his neck. Her breath game
in short bursts and then her body tensed. She whispered urgently, “I’m coming,
Jake, hold me.”
    Scarne used his left hand to lift
her gently by her buttocks as she climaxed. He could feel her toes clenching
the top of his feet. After a few minutes her paroxysm and cries subsided and
she sat back down. Her head was at his groin level. She was still breathing
heavily.
    “Now, it’s your turn.”
    She put her hands on his hips and
pulled him towards her and enveloped him with her mouth, tentatively at first,
and then with an enthusiasm that he both appreciated and found surprising. It
was something she had never done with him before. It wasn’t long before he had
to grip her shoulders for support.
    ***
    Later, snuggling in bed, Scarne
said, “This room isn’t what I would have