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across the room, dangling from the hanging lamp chain over the vanity table, and she had jumped up on the bed, kicked her pumps into opposite corners of the room and hiked her skirt up to her waist. When she started unhooking her bra, Cyrus realized this was no joke. He quickly unbuckled his belt, but when he tried to shove his blue jeans down over his boots, he lost his balance and fell on the floor. |
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"Take the boots off first, dummy." Kyna's bra hit him between the eyes. |
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Shit! Cyrus thought as he tore at the boot laces. I'm gonna have to cut these fucking pants off. |
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One bounce on the bed and she was out of her skirt. Cyrus had managed to get one boot off and was pulling on the other as if his life savings were in his sock. When he got the other foot free, he looked up. |
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Kyna was still on the bed, nipples jutting, her hand slowly massaging the thick hair between her legs, and smiling like she was Sylvester the cat and he was Tweedy Bird. Looking him right in the eye, she slipped two fingers deep inside herselfonce . . . twice . . . three timesand then popped them into her mouth, rolled her eyes and moaned. |
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"I warned you once before," Kyna purred. "Don't make me wait." Her hand was back, buried in her curly red thatch. |
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"Honey," Cyrus replied as he stepped out of his white briefs, "if I don't drop dead between here and the bed, you're never going to need those fingers again." |
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Later, Cyrus came out of the shower just as Kyna hung up the phone. |
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She shook her head. "Still no answer." |
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"Maybe something happened to him." |
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"Things like you mean only happen to little old ladies and school kids. Things never happen to people like Bryan." |
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Cyrus picked up the decorative jack-o'-lantern candle that the motel had left on the night table and put it back down next to the papier-mâché witch. |
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