Brazen Virtue

around her fingers.

    “You know I love to talk to you, Lawrence. I get excited just thinking about hearing your voice. I’m wearing a new nightgown. It’s red. You can see right through it.” She laughed and snuggled against the pillows. At that moment, she was a hundred-and-five-pound waif with legs that wouldn’t quit. “You’re so naughty, Lawrence. If that’s what you want me to do, I’m doing it right now, and pretending it’s you. All right, just listen. Listen and I’ll tell you everything.”
    H E KNEW HE WAS rushing it, but dammit, he had to see if it could happen again. Roxanne sounded so beautiful. As soon as he’d heard her voice, he’d known. The flesh on his arms had puckered up and the ache between his legs had come on hard and fast.
    She had to be the next one. She was waiting for him. Not teasing, not promising like Desiree. This was the next level. Roxanne spoke of things his imagination hadn’t ever conjured up. She wanted him to hurt her. How could he resist?
    But he had to be careful.
    This neighborhood wasn’t as quiet as the other one. Traffic rushed up and down the street and pedestrians streamed along the sidewalk. Maybe it was better this way. He might be seen, recognized. That added its own edge.
    Her apartment building faced Wisconsin Avenue. Jerald had parked two blocks away. During the walk, he’d forced himself to move slowly, not so much out of caution but out of the desire to take in everything about the night. There were clouds and a light wind. His face stayed cool, but inside the pockets of his school jacket, his hands were hot and wet. He closed his fingers over the rope he’d taken from the utility room. Roxanne would appreciate that he’d remembered what she liked, and how she liked it.
    He was supposed to be at the library doing research on a report on World War II. He’d written the report a week before, but his mother wouldn’t know the difference. She’d flown to Michigan to beat the campaign drums on the trail with his father.

    When school was out, he’d be expected to join them for the hot, frantic summer months of politicking. He hadn’t yet decided how to avoid that, but he didn’t doubt he would. There were six weeks to go before graduation.
    Fucking prissy prep school, he thought without much heat. Once he was in college, he would be his own man. He wouldn’t have to make excuses about libraries or club meetings or movies to get out for a couple of hours at night.
    When his father won the election, there would be the Secret Service to deal with. Jerald looked forward to outwitting them. Bunch of robots in suits and ties.
    Stepping into the shrubbery, he took out a tube of cocaine. He snorted it quickly and felt his mind crystallize into a pinpoint of thought.
    Roxanne.
    Smiling, he skirted around the back of the apartment building. He didn’t bother to look around, but carefully cut through the glass of her living room window. No one could stop him now. He was too powerful. And Roxanne was waiting.
    He nicked himself on the glass as he reached in to turn the lock, but merely sucked on the wound as he drew up the pane. It was dark inside, and his heart was beginning to hammer a bit too fast. Jerald hitched himself up and in. He didn’t bother to close the window behind him.
    She would be waiting for him, waiting for him to hurt her, to make her sweat and scream. She would be waiting for him to take her to the ultimate climax.
    She didn’t hear him. She had already taken Lawrence over the top and was on the edge of an orgasm herself.
    He saw her, sprawled on satin pillows, skin damp and glistening in candlelight. Closing his eyes, he listened to the voice. When he opened them again, she wasn’t a barrellike woman with flabs of fat, but a long, leggy redhead. Smiling, he walked to the side of the bed.
    “It’s time, Roxanne.”

    Her eyes flew open. Caught in the mists of her own fantasy, she stared at him. Her ample breasts were heaving. “Who are you?”
    “You know me.” He was still smiling as he straddled her.
    “What do you want? What are you doing here?”
    “I’m here to give you everything you’ve been asking for. And more.” Lifting both hands, he tore the thin material from her breasts.
    She squealed and shoved at him. The receiver fell on the mattress as she scrambled for the edge of the bed. “Lawrence, Lawrence, there’s a man in my room. Call the police. Call someone.”
    “You’re going to like it,