Free Chicago Assault by Randy Wayne White Page B

crying.
    He held her, saying nothing. Every time he thought the tears had finally subsided, her face crinkled anew, and a fresh wave of anguish swept through her.
    But, inevitably, it ended, and she leaned against him as limp as a rag doll. Hawker pushed her gently away and returned with a box of tissues. She scrubbed at her eyes and blew her nose. “God,” she whispered. “What a display.”
    â€œI’m sorry, Felicia. I was damn cruel.”
    â€œOh, James, you weren’t cruel. You were just being honest. And the truth is exactly what I needed. It broke the emotional doors down. A good cry, that’s what I needed. Your honesty did what Saul’s death or the doctor’s drugs couldn’t do.” She took a deep, fresh breath and blew her nose again.
    â€œI guess I’ll be going then.”
    She grabbed his arm as he stood. “You helped me, James. I’d like to help you.”
    Hawker’s expression was wooden. “I’m not sure that’s possible,” he said.
    Felicia stood and wrapped her arms around him, her face on his chest. Hawker noticed that she was trembling, trembling as if she were freezing. She whispered, “Sometimes life can be so … so shitty, it would be nice to be able to just disappear for a while. Not forever. Just an hour. Or a day. Someplace to escape to where no one or no memory could find you.”
    Hawker stroked her soft hair. “Yeah,” he said. “That would be nice.”
    â€œOn a night like tonight?” she asked.
    â€œEspecially tonight.” He pulled her tighter. “God, woman, your skin is like ice.”
    Her eyes were as wide and wet as a fawn’s. “It’s because I’m lonely, James. And I want to escape. With you. Tonight.”
    She stepped back, and in one motion stripped the nightgown over her head and dropped it on the floor. Her nipples were full and brown on her heavy breasts. The undulation of her ribs veed into a narrow waist and the black slash of pubic hair. “Tonight, let’s pretend there is no one else and nothing else but you and me in the world. Please.”
    Hawker pulled her close to him, his mind scanning for the right words of refusal.
    They swayed together, back and forth, in a slow, soundless dance, and soon he stopped fighting for words.
    Her hands moved tenderly on Hawker’s body. She found the buttons on his shirt, and soon her breasts were like hot coals against his bare chest.
    â€œYou’re so tense,” she whispered, massaging the back of his neck. “I’m going to help you relax, James.”
    Hawker said nothing as his hands slid over her cool hips.
    Her lips had found his ear, and her tongue was warm and smooth. “We’re going to escape together,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything you want me to do, James, absolutely anything for your pleasure. Tonight we’re people without names and without memories.”
    Her hot tongue dampened Hawker’s lips, then traced its way down his chest to his abdomen. Felicia’s hands slid down Hawker’s ribs as she dropped to her knees. He heard the clank of his brass buckle coming undone, and then she pulled his pants down, finding him and holding him in her small hand.
    â€œI’ve been wanting to see you like this, James,” she murmured as she rubbed her cheek against him, kittenlike. “I know it’s wicked of me, but I just don’t care anymore.”
    She kissed the inside of his thighs as she massaged his testicles. And then she opened her mouth and slid her lips over him, taking him deep inside her, the suction of it seeming to pull at his very soul.
    Hawker found the soft weight of her breast with his right hand, toying with the projectile shape of her nipple as his left hand tangled her hair and formed a fist.
    She took him softly at first but then became increasingly demanding, attacking him in her passion; the two of them finding the