Candy in the Sack Read Free Page B

on dusty eucalyptus leaves. He had found himself at the enclosure for the Indian tigers, gazing across a concrete moat and into the gem-like golden eyes of the alpha male, draped regally along a stone ledge, its tail lazily thrashing the air. The tiger had gazed back at him in haughty supremacy until it had yawned and gathered itself to its feet, then dove with huge paws outstretched, the impact of its chest sending water surging up and beyond the basin’s limit, like some tidal surge . . .
    The remembered image brought the contact between himself and Sherri perilously close to the finish from which he had been restraining himself, his buttocks clenched hard, enough to begin dully aching from the tension. She might not have complained if that had happenedit might even be what she wanted — but he didn’t want the action to stop. Not until other things happened, where he would be in control and she would be as helpless beneath a pleasuring onslaught as she had made him now.
    He brought his hands down to her shoulders, but he didn’t need to push her away from himself. A small startled gasp escaped her and she jerked back as two beams of light quickly swept across her and Bryan.
    The night’s darkness returned as quickly. With Sherri clinging around his legs, he looked out past the slop of the leaf-strewn yard and sidewalk; a car he didn’t recognize completed its turn in the cul-de-sac and continued on, down the way it had come. The sound of its engine disappeared somewhere beyond the silhouettes of unlit houses.
    “Who did you think it was?” Bryan smiled as he stroked his wife’s hair. “Witch hunters?”
    “Kinda startled me.” Chagrin tinged Sherri’s voice. She laid the side of her face against his thigh. “That’s all.”
    “Just somebody who got lost. No big deal.” He reached down and too her by the elbows, and raised her up to her feet. “Then again, if a house goes up for a sale on this block, they might come back and buy it. They’ll probably think it’s a friendly neighborhood.”
    “I’m freezing my ass off out here,” announced Sherri.
    He had to disentangle his own feet from his underwear and trousers, before he could lead her inside the house. She caught his hand as he reached to close the door behind them.
    “No . . . don’t,” she said. “Leave it open. I like to have the moon watching us.” She nodded toward the couch. “Just bring me the comforter.”
    “Sure.” He padded over to the couch and brought back the small blanket-like item, for which she had crocheted the squares, years ago when they first moved into the house. He draped it about her shoulders. “You look good in moonlight.”
    “Good enough to finish what we got started?”
    He didn t have to answer her not in words at least. In the open doorway, with the moon watching, he laid her down upon her back. She brought her knees up and pressed them tight against his hips; her arms reached up and around his neck, and he set to work.
    A clockless time later, with the comforter wrapped around both of them, they gazed out the open doorway at the stars that had moved above the horizon, to replace the ones that had been there when they had started. “You know,” said Bryan, “I really did think you were supposed to be in Milwaukee right now.”
    Sherri lazily opened her eyes. “I have other occult powers.” She smiled. “Like the mystic ability to call up the rest of the marketing committee and shift the meeting to next weekend.” She moved closer to his side, reaching up and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Just for you.”
    He didn’t say anything. A crick was starting to set into his lower back, courtesy of the hardwood floor. Outside on the front porch, the empty witch mask continued to turn its gap-toothed grin toward the night sky.
    “Though I suppose,” said Sherri, “this really doesn’t help. I mean, about there not being any trick-or-treaters anymore. Real trick-or-treaters, that