The Black Train Part 26

She looked directly into his eyes, straight-faced. Now her hand was slick with sweat. "What did you think? It was a blacksmith-circa 1860. High leather boots, canvas pants, a slick rawhide ap.r.o.n. He was hammering a strip of metal, and alternately yanking the bellows chain. So I said, *Hey, what the h.e.l.l are you doing?' and I said it loud. But he didn't hear me, just kept whacking away."

"What did he look like, I mean, his face?"

"Big bushy mustache, and the skin on his face was like pitted leather. He wore this hat that was sort of like a leather cowboy hat but without the sides curled up, and the front flopped down. I yelled at him again, and he kept ignoring me. He walked back around the side of the forge and that's when I saw him dipping the crucible into the vent. He took it out and poured it into a stone mold that looked like it had wax or something in it, and he did it very carefully. Then he picked the mold up with tongs and dunked it in a tub of water."

Collier could feel the pulse in her hand pick up.

"He brought the mold around, knocked the metal out with a hammer, and started beating on it-the cycle beginning again."

Collier felt dour when he asked, "Was it a mold for shears?"

She looked at him, startled. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

He knew he couldn't possibly mention the morbid nightmare. "I saw one in Mrs. Butler's display cases. A mold chiseled out of stone, for wooling shears."

"Well, that's what these things looked like. They were big, like tin snips. He had a mold for each half, and after he'd banged on them a while, he tossed them aside with the tongs. There were two piles of them on the ground, sizzling."

"Did you tap him on the shoulder, give him a nudge to get his attention?"

Dominique seemed tired now. "To tell you the truth, that's the first thing that came to my mind, but I didn't. Because I was afraid if I touched him-"

"There'd be nothing there."

She nodded. "I shouted at him one more time, and I mean at the top of my lungs...He obviously didn't know I was there, but when I shouted, he kind of paused and stood up straight. Then he turned around and looked right at me."

"I thought you said he didn't know you were there."

She made a nullifying hand gesture. "Or I should say, he didn't look right at me, he looked right through me."

Collier thought on that.

"Then"-she visibly gulped-"I noticed the rest."

"What!" Collier nearly yelped in frustration.

"His eyes," she said in the lowest tone. "The whites of his eyes. They didn't look human. The whites were yellow, like someone with a disease, with darker smudges like soot. His face, right just then-the way his eyes looked, I mean...I was more terrified at that moment than I've ever been in my life-that one second of looking in his eyes. Because I got the sickest feeling that for maybe a sliver of a second, he saw me."

Collier was keyed up. "What did he do next?"

"He grimaced, and it turned that pocked, leathery face into the grossest mask. Then he starting pumping the bellows again." She let out a long sigh. "So there. That's my story."

Crickets chirruped around them. The night had deepened and grown more humid; Collier felt clammy at his armpits.

"Wow," he said.

"I forced myself to walk back into the inn, all that light and heat raging behind me. It was a wall of heat. I got back inside, looked out the window, and-of course-the backyard was dark. The furnace was cold, and there was no one there."

Collier believed her at once. Unlike many he'd met thus far, bulls.h.i.+tting wasn't her style, nor was exaggeration. But he'd seen some things, too, hadn't he?

He elected not to mention them.

A question popped up. "Was this...back in your drinking days?"

She smiled. "Fair question. And, no. This was years later. Hallucination? Sure, it could be, but I don't think so, and I don't think it was lucid dreaming or any of that stuff, and I wasn't on medication for anything. I'll never know the answer"-she pressed a hand to her heart-"but in here, I think it was a ghost. A revenant, discorporate ent.i.ty, or whatever it is they call it these days."

" *Ghost' works just fine for me. And that was the last time you ever took a catering job at the inn?"

"Oh, no," she said. "I've done a bunch since then. But that's the only time I ever saw anything funky."

Funky is right. I've got voices, p.i.s.s stench, dogs, nightmares about SHEARS, and some woman flas.h.i.+ng my keyhole with a shaved crotch. Could we BOTH be crazy?

Collier dropped it.

She half laughed but it didn't sound convincing. "Anyway, now that I'm done telling it, it all sounds pretty silly."

"You're wrong about that," Collier argued. "The Gast House is a pretty chilling place if you're in the right frame of mind-or, I guess in this case, the wrong frame of mind. Mr. Sute said that many, many people have had unusual experiences there."

She tossed a shoulder to dismiss it, but it was obvious her retelling left her discomfited.

"Enough of all this ghost stuff, though," he said more softly now. Her hand remained clasped in his.

He was looking at her again. He drew her back to him-had the story kindled her desires?-and found she was even more eager to kiss than before. Each tongue played around in the other's mouth with more fervor this time. Her breath seemed hotter now, if that were possible, and a bit of that push-back barrier had lessened. Her hand ran up his arm and over his chest as her tongue seemed desperate. Collier fell into a luscious void right then. Dominique was the fresh-baked bread still warm from the oven, and he was the b.u.t.ter melting into it.

The words in his head arrived like a zombie's drone: I could really fall in love with her...

Next she draped one leg over his to afford closer contact. For a moment he expected that smooth, bare leg to slide over his groin...but that never quite happened. Instead her hand around his back pressed him tighter to her.

He began to slowly suck down the side of her neck, and when his tongue laved over her jugular vein, he could feel her pulse beating like a hummingbird's, but as his tongue continued to glaze her throat and bare shoulder, the taste of her sweat, plus the commingling scents of body spray, soap, and shampoo magnified his rising horniness. He had one hand around her side, part of it over the gap between the clinging top and waist of her skirt. He knew he was testing her now, encroaching her obscure boundaries, but she didn't flinch when his hand pressed flat against her belly and the tip of his pinkie slipped an inch beneath the waistline of her skirt. Collier's Evil Twin voice returned: Congratulations, stud! Right now your finger's about four inches from Party Central! but Collier was too fevered to listen. He didn't move his hand but let his tongue trace the rim of the cami-top. Something told him not to slide the top down and expose the b.r.e.a.s.t.s he'd sell his soul to see, but he very gently ghosted his lips over the top of the ruffly fabric.

Then his lips inched closer to the nipple...

"Oh, jeez!" came a frustrated whisper.

Collier brought his lips away, but his hand remained in place. "What?"

"This is my fault," she sighed. "I know better. I need to tell you the rest..."

Collier was almost indignant. "No more ghost-story stuff!"

She paused to collect her breath. "No, more me stuff."

Collier didn't relieve his embrace. "If you don't want to go all the way tonight, that's cool." He tried to sound understanding.

"I should've explained everything earlier but I don't want to go all the way ever. What I mean is I don't have s.e.x-at all-anymore. I probably didn't make that clear before."

Collier contemplated a thoughtful response but couldn't.

"I'll put it bluntly," she continued in a wearied tone. "I don't f.u.c.k. I haven't since college."

Collier tried to manage his reaction. "I understand," he a.s.sured her but really didn't. A small chuckle. "We weren't f.u.c.king, you know."

"I mean," she added, "I'm never going to have s.e.x again until I'm married. Making out is one thing, but...that's all I do. No s.e.x out of wedlock, ever. That means any kind of s.e.x-coitus, a.n.a.l, oral. It's part of what I was telling you before. It's part of how I pay off that credit card I used to get my life back."

Think! Collier thought, but the alter ego piped in, She's just making an excuse so she won't feel guilty after you ball her from one end of the street to the other! Keep feeling her up! In a few minutes you'll have her so hot she'll turn into a great big bowl of Do-Me Stew...

Was that really it? We were making out pretty heavy. He replied like a trained actor, "I understand."

There was a fret in her eyes. "I don't think you do, and I realize that most guys don't-they can't. It's not reasonable for me to expect them to. And the part that sucks the worst is I really like you."

Evil Voice: It's bulls.h.i.+t, buddy! Just stoke her up some more!

He squeezed her hand. "Now it's my turn to be blunt. I'm so f.u.c.kin' crazy about you I could howl at the moon."

Her face looked childlike when she laughed. Then that expression of seriousness-merged-with-frustration drained back to her eyes. "I don't want you to think I'm a teasing b.i.t.c.h-"

"I don't."

Evil Voice: Not only are you a teasing b.i.t.c.h, you're a teasing b.i.t.c.h who's about to get serious blocks put to you...

"It's a h.e.l.l of a lot to ask of a guy," she admitted, "even a hard-core Christian."

"I'm not a hard-core Christian, but I've got it covered."

"And for G.o.d's sake, I don't expect you or anyone to live by my personal spiritual standards. It's just my thing."

"Just trust me," he whispered into her neck. They kissed some more. Collier was so intent on her that he wasn't sure what he planned, and he had no idea how closely he'd been listening to his own dark side. He whispered, "Is this too much?" and lowered his mouth to her waist and teased her navel with his tongue. He licked a ring around it, then daintily pressed his tongue in and sucked.

Well...she didn't say no...

He sucked harder, and was overjoyed by the way she flexed, squirmed, and moaned. Her hands came to his head; he expected her to push him off but it didn't happen.

He was also getting away with his right hand half cupping a b.u.t.tock, which squirmed and tremored as well. And again, "Is this too much?" before his tongue slowly licked a line straight up her several inches of bare stomach to the bottom of the cami but when he tried to hook his tongue beneath the hem, her hands nudged him off a moment and replaced his mouth back on the fabric. Collier continued to move up...

Testing more boundaries, he knew. His lips roved over the meager fabric that covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and he replaced his hand over her belly, one pinkie returning to its previous position an inch beneath the waistband.

Her skin felt so hot now, and shedding sweat. The pinkie roved in the sweat but when he tried to slide it down another half inch, her hand pulled it back.

The b.i.t.c.h is still playing with you. Once you start sucking her t.i.t through that cheesecloth tramp-wear she's got on, she won't stop you then, brother...

Collier wondered. But she allowed his mouth to proceed farther up the bottom of her breast. His lips felt sensitive as a stethoscope; they could detect the swelling heat, the racing pulse.

Keep going... But were they his words, or his id's?

Collier's mouth kept creeping up. Through the corner of his eye, he spotted an elderly couple walking by, but even in the dark he could see their eyes wide in shock. To h.e.l.l with 'em, he thought. They hurried by.

At last, Collier's lips found the very distended nipple, and began to slowly suck it through the cotton top.

Her back bowed, and she huffed in a breath.

But she didn't stop him.

She's all yours now. You just turned her stiff Christian starch into pudding...

Was Collier listening?

He sucked more fervently, and precisely; her breast was a pulsing bag of excited nerves and hot blood. When Collier took his mouth off, he could see how he'd sucked a dark, wet circle into the fabric, her inflamed papilla standing hard. In the next blink, he switched to the other nipple and began to suck even harder.

Dominique's hands fisted in his hair. She was breathing through her teeth, inhaling her next words: "Oh, s.h.i.+t, I can't believe how good that feels..."

That's when Collier's hand slipped between her legs and let his middle finger dip into the flooded v.a.g.i.n.al groove.

"d.a.m.n it!" she yelled and yanked his hand out like someone pulling a snake out of a hole. "I knew it!"

When she jumped off the bench and strode off, Collier was thrown back. "What the h.e.l.l? Dominique!"

Her heels clacked so loud down the brick street they sounded like a hammer smacking slate. Collier jumped up after her.

"Wait!"

She was walking real fast. Collier had to huff after her.

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong?"

"I should've known!" she seemed to sob and yell at the same time. "It's always the same. No one gives a s.h.i.+t how someone else feels!"

"What are you talking about?" he pleaded when he finally caught up and grabbed her arm. He wanted to collapse when he saw tears welling in her eyes.

"What, I guess you just thought you'd get me h.o.r.n.y enough and I'd decide to f.u.c.k you? Right after I just got done telling you I didn't want to?"

"I-I-"

"Past a certain point all women are just b.i.t.c.hes in heat? They're all asking for it? *No' really means *yes'?"

"No-no-"

She turned and resumed her strut.

"Wait! Please!"

When Collier grabbed her arm again, she almost hauled off and hit him. But he had to stop her, he had to find out what had happened.

"Why'd you have to ruin it?" she wailed in the street.

"What? My hand?"

"I told you, no s.e.x, and you said okay!"

"It was just my hand! My finger!"