Reprisal

Warm. Very warm where they met. And the warmth was spreading. She found her body pressing itself more firmly against his, as if it had a mind of its own. Well, not a mind, perhaps, but most definitely an agenda of its own.

It wanted him.

Rafe leaned back from Lisl and looked at her.

"Let's go to my place," he whispered.

Her mouth was dry. "Why your place?"

"It's closer."

The logic of that simple statement struck her as utterly flawless. Lisl nodded.

It wasn't far from the tavern to Parkview, the upscale development where Rafe owned a condo. They walked quickly, in silence. Lisl was afraid to speak, afraid it would shatter the mood and taint the delicious excitement coursing through her. The last thing she wanted or needed now was to stop and think about this. No common sense, no cold hard facts, no prudence, no worries, no doubts or second guesses. None of that. The excitement was too wonderful. So long since she had felt anything like this. Like a teenager. She didn't want to let it go. And she wouldn't. She'd flow with it, let it take her where it was going, do something impulsive for once in her life.

But she had to hurry before she changed her mind.

The brisk walking pace graduated into a jog, which evolved into a gallop. When they reached the door to Rafe's condo, they were both breathing hard, perhaps not wholly from the exertion. Lisl leaned against the railing while he fumbled with his keys. Then the door was open. They ducked inside, slammed it shut, and then they were in each other's arms. Rafe's lips found hers. Lisl's arms went around him as his fingers slipped lightly up the sides of her face and ran through her hair, down to her shoulders, coming to rest at the top button of her blouse. He unbuttoned it and moved to the second.

Lisl experienced an instant of panic. Too fast! This is happening too fast! Then his tongue probed hers and her apprehensions melted away.

When he had her blouse open, he slipped it off her shoulders, then reached around and unfastened her bra. As that fell away, he pulled his lips from hers and ran them down her neck to her breasts, his silky mustache tickling her along the way. She groaned and leaned back against the door as his tongue found a nipple.

"Oh, God, that feels good."

Rafe said nothing. His hands never stopped moving. While his lips and tongue pleasured her breasts, his fingers caressed her back, her abdomen, and then they were working on her belt, the buttons to her slacks, pulling them open, pushing them and her panties down until they sank to her ankles.

And then Rafe, too, began to sink. He drew his tongue between her breasts, down her abdomen to her navel, circled it, then continued downward. His lips slid into her hair down there, his tongue probed toward the swelling heart of all her sensation but didn't reach it. Lisl spread her legs. She felt wanton, she felt wonderful. She entwined her fingers in the silky black waves atop his head and pushed his face more tightly against her. So close now… he had to reach it. Rafe gripped her right leg behind the thigh and lifted it so that it rested on his left shoulder. It felt fat and heavy there. She was glad the lights were out, she wished she were slimmer, she wished—

"Ahhh!"

He'd found it! Bolts of white-hot pleasure shot down her legs and up through the rest of her body. She shuddered with delight, not wanting it to stop, not wanting it ever to stop.

Too fast! she thought again as her breath hissed in and out through her teeth at a steadily increasing rate. It's going way too fast!

But the night was only begi

THE BOY at five years

February 12,1974

"You've been neglecting my money," Jimmy said at breakfast one day.

"Your money?" Carol said. "I didn't know you had any."

She and Jimmy had reached a sort of equilibrium. She had grown used to his almost unearthly precocity and adapted to it. Adapted as well as one could to a forty-inch child whose brain seemed to hold the accumulated wisdom of the ages. Five years of daily life with him had closed off areas of feeling; and questions she'd asked had gone unanswered so long her mind had stopped asking them. He was imperious, intolerant, inconsiderate, insufferable at times, but he could be charming when he wished. There were times when she almost liked him.

"The inheritance. The eight million dollars' worth of assets my father inherited from Dr. Hanley."

"So Jim's 'my father' now, is he? I thought he was 'merely the vessel.'"

"Whatever. The fact remains that my birthright has been lying around, moldering, static, when it could have been growing all these five years. I want you to rectify that immediately."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

He was in his insufferable mode but Carol found him amusing nonetheless. Despite everything, he was still her son. And Jim's.

"I want you to go back to New York and start converting every-thing—the mansion, everything—to cash. I will then advise you on how it shall be invested."

Carol smiled. "How good of you. The Bernard Baruch of Sesame Street."

His dark eyes blazed. "Don't make fun of me. I know what I'm doing."

Carol realized her remark had been gratuitous. But understandable in light of their ongoing battle of wills.

"I'm sure you do."

"One thing, though," he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "When you get to New York—"

"I didn't say I was going."

"But you will. It's your money too."

"I know. But we can't spend the interest we get on the bonds and C.D.s we already have. Why fool with it?"

He favored her with one of his rare smiles. "Because it will amuse me to see how fast I can multiply it." Then the smile faded. "But when you get to New York… be careful."

"Of course I'll—"

"No. I mean, be wary. Beware of anyone who asks about your child. Tell them you miscarried. No one must know I exist, especially…"

There was something in Jimmy's eyes. Something Carol had never seen before.

"Especially who?"

Jimmy's tone was grave. "Be alert for a man in his mid-thirties with red hair."

"I'm sure there'll be a fair number of those in Manhattan."

"Not like this one. His skin will have an olive cast and his eyes will be blue. There is only one like him. He will be looking for me. If such a man approaches you, or tries to speak to you, or even if you merely see someone like him, call me immediately."

Carol realized that Jimmy was afraid.

"Call you? Why? What will you do?"

He turned and stared out the window.

"Hide."

NOVEMBER

SIX

Lisl glanced at her desk clock as she finished grading the last calculus test. Noon. Perfect timing. She was starved. She pulled on her jacket, picked up her cushion, and stepped out into the hall.

Al Torres, a tenured associate, was passing by, shrugging into a light sports coat as he headed for the stairs.

"Going to the caf, Leese?"

"Brown-bagging it today, Al."

"Again?"

"The diet. Can't make it work if I go to the grease pit."

He laughed. "You're really sticking to this one. And it's working. Good girl!"

Lisl was tempted to call him on that "good girl" business—she was thirty-two, for God's sake—but knew his heart was in the right place. He had two young daughters and probably used the phrase a lot.

She pulled her lunch bag from the department's ancient refrigerator and looked inside: four ounces of cottage cheese mixed with pineapple chunks, two carrots, two celery stalks, and a diet Dr Pepper. She stuck out her tongue.

Yummy-yummy. I can hardly wait.