Читаем The Lake полностью

For the millionth time (it seemed like the millionth), Leigh lifted her head and scanned the lake. She was weary with waiting. Charlie had either forgotten, or was being held captive by that witch bitch mother of his.

“That’s it,” she muttered. “Mom found out, locked her precious boy in the closet, and swallowed the key. Jeez. What kind of fool am I? Driven to the point of suicide by some kid who can’t even stand up to his own mother?”

Some kid who’s gagging for sex but doesn’t even know it yet. Wouldn’t know a pussy if it jumped up and bit him. “No,” she told herself. “That’s not true.” She remembered Charlie last night, the state he was in (the state they were both in), and knew that no way was that true.

Time to haul ass and head for home, honey. Quit being a prize idiot and just get gone.

She looked at her wristwatch. 5:57. Mike and Jenny would be getting worried. More than that. They’d most likely be hairless by now. Wondering if they should call Mom and Dad.

Or the cops…

No, they wouldn’t do that. Not Mike and Jenny. They were okay guys. Sensible. Levelheaded. Teachers, for godsake. Through her tears, Leigh was sorry for what they must be feeling right now. They’d be thinking they had let her parents down.

Let her down.

Jesus.

At least she owed them the courtesy of an appearance before they called the police department.

She climbed to her feet. Her back and legs were wrecked; she felt like she’d done a fifty-mile route march.

Aaaghh…

She limped over to the canoe. Clambered into it. Sat down and eased the paddle off the gunnel. It was so muggy and hot. She unbuttoned her blouse. Her almost new blouse, the one she’d worn only twice before. She liked it, too, knew the color red looked good against her fair hair and sun-bronzed skin.

But it wasn’t looking so new, or so good, now.

Hanging off her shoulders like a limp rag.

She dragged it together, tied the ends in a knot. Under the thin fabric, she felt the weight of her breasts as she leaned forward, skimming the paddle through the water. She scanned the dark pines and the shining lake spread out before her…and saw Charlie up ahead, powering his rowboat toward the shore with strong, well-muscled arms, his back against the sun, his front in shadow.

Like last night, he wasn’t wearing his hat.

She could see his gleaming white teeth.

Because he was smiling, for chrissake.

The smile did it for her.

Goddamn you, Charlie. I don’t believe this. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and I’ve just spent an entire afternoon waiting for you. Shit, Charlie. How could you?

He steered the boat around, easing its hull onto the sand. All so laid-back…and, goddamn it, he looked so…unconcerned. He lifted the anchor and let it drop into the water.

Then, effortlessly, like an athlete, he leapt from the rowboat and came toward her. Gleaming muscles, slender hips—and jeans bulging in all the right places. He sure looks mighty pleased with himself, she thought angrily.

“Charlie, you useless piece a’ shit. Where have you been?”

“Mom told me to take more baskets out on Willow. There’s a whole new buncha vacationers over at Carson’s Camp, and…” He stopped, saw her angry face, and dropped his eyes.

He looked caught, uncomfortable.

“Charlie,” she persisted. “You knew we arranged to meet today. At three o’clock, we both agreed. It’s now turned six. What is the matter—can’t you tell the time?”

His face reddened, his mouth trembling slightly.

Alarmed, she thought he was going to burst into tears.

Oh my God.

Don’t do this to me, Charlie.

I want a goddamn lover, not a crybaby.

Take me in your arms. Sweep me off my feet.

Do something. But don’t just stand there like an idiot.

He looked confused—innocent, like a child; melting her anger like a snowball in the sun. More than anything else in the whole world, she wanted to hold him close. Gather him to her breast; caress him with gentle hands.

And for him to ram himself inside her.

Now.

He could have committed murder for all she cared.

Maybe had.

Maybe his mom lay bleeding to death right now, a stained hunting knife tossed to one side. The lifeblood pumping out of her.

All because she wouldn’t let him go to the evil bitch who lusted for her precious Charlie’s sex.

Give it to me, Charlie. Here. Now. In front of anybody who cares to watch. Just give it to me.

Leigh opened her blouse, letting it fall from her shoulders as she moved toward him.

His eyes widened. Then he smiled, shyly, fixing his gaze on her naked breasts. They were heavy and swinging as she walked toward him.

He held out his arms, and with a moan she pulled him to her. Wrapped an arm around his neck and pressed her open mouth onto his. Their tongues met. Her free hand struggled to undo the top button of his jeans.

They’re so tight.