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The Lunatic Cafe :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 194 из 234" She was staring behind me with her mouthopen.
Something was going on behind my back, but what? I stood, eyes all for George, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. I stepped away from him just to be safe. When I had enough distance to be safe. I could see the doorway.
Raina was wearing a brown silk teddy, high heeled boots and nothing else. The fur coat was held open, the bloodred lining outlining her body dramatically.
"I thought you were going to stay in the background unless I called for you."
She dropped the fur into a fuzzy puddle on the floor. She stalked into the room, swaying everything that would move.
Ronnie and I exchanged glances. She mouthed the words, "What's going on?" I shrugged. I didn't have the faintest idea.
Raina bent over the silk flowers on the coffee table, giving George Smitz a long, thorough view of her slim backside.
The color was draining from his face. His hands were slowly unclenching. He looked confused. Join the club.
Raina smiled up at him. She stood up very slowly, giving George a good view of her high, tight breasts. His eyes were glued to her dйcolletage. She stood up, running her hands down the teddy, ending with a pass over her groin. George seemed to be having a little trouble swallowing.
Raina walked up to him until she was just a finger's pull away from him. She looked up at him and whispered out of full, sensuous lips, "Where's Jason?"
He frowned. "Who's Jason?"
She caressed his cheek with her painted nails. The nails slid out of her skin long and longer, until they were great hooking claws. The tips were still the color of burnt pumpkins.
She hooked those claws under his chin, putting them just enough in not to break the skin. "The tiniest bit of pressure and you'll have a howling good time once a month."
It was a lie. She was still in human form. She wasn't contagious. All the color had drained from his face. His skin was the color of unbleached paper.
"Where's your wife's body, Mr. Smitz?" I asked. It was a good threat worth more than one question.
"I don't. . don't know what you mean."
"Don't lie to me, George, I don't like it." She raised her other hand in front of his face, and the claws slid out like unsheathed knives.
He whimpered.
"Where's Peggy, George?" She whispered it. The voice was still seductive. She might have been whispering, I love you, instead of a threat.
She kept her claws under his jaw and lowered the other hand slowly. His eyes followed that hand. He tried to move his head down, but the claws stopped him. He gasped.
Something was going on behind my back, but what? I stood, eyes all for George, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. I stepped away from him just to be safe. When I had enough distance to be safe. I could see the doorway.
Raina was wearing a brown silk teddy, high heeled boots and nothing else. The fur coat was held open, the bloodred lining outlining her body dramatically.
"I thought you were going to stay in the background unless I called for you."
She dropped the fur into a fuzzy puddle on the floor. She stalked into the room, swaying everything that would move.
Ronnie and I exchanged glances. She mouthed the words, "What's going on?" I shrugged. I didn't have the faintest idea.
Raina bent over the silk flowers on the coffee table, giving George Smitz a long, thorough view of her slim backside.
The color was draining from his face. His hands were slowly unclenching. He looked confused. Join the club.
Raina smiled up at him. She stood up very slowly, giving George a good view of her high, tight breasts. His eyes were glued to her dйcolletage. She stood up, running her hands down the teddy, ending with a pass over her groin. George seemed to be having a little trouble swallowing.
Raina walked up to him until she was just a finger's pull away from him. She looked up at him and whispered out of full, sensuous lips, "Where's Jason?"
He frowned. "Who's Jason?"
She caressed his cheek with her painted nails. The nails slid out of her skin long and longer, until they were great hooking claws. The tips were still the color of burnt pumpkins.
She hooked those claws under his chin, putting them just enough in not to break the skin. "The tiniest bit of pressure and you'll have a howling good time once a month."
It was a lie. She was still in human form. She wasn't contagious. All the color had drained from his face. His skin was the color of unbleached paper.
"Where's your wife's body, Mr. Smitz?" I asked. It was a good threat worth more than one question.
"I don't. . don't know what you mean."
"Don't lie to me, George, I don't like it." She raised her other hand in front of his face, and the claws slid out like unsheathed knives.
He whimpered.
"Where's Peggy, George?" She whispered it. The voice was still seductive. She might have been whispering, I love you, instead of a threat.
She kept her claws under his jaw and lowered the other hand slowly. His eyes followed that hand. He tried to move his head down, but the claws stopped him. He gasped.