Kisser (2010)

came up to the man in the black raincoat he stopped behind him and whispered in his ear, “Don’t turn around.”
    The man froze.
    “The guy who lives in that house doesn’t like loiterers,” he said.
    “It’s a free country,” the man replied, not moving.
    Peter flipped up the lapel of his coat and removed a four-inch-long hat pin that had belonged to his grandmother. He gave the loiterer a quick jab in the ass.
    The man cried out and spun around. Then, walking backward, he shoved his hand inside his coat and made his way down the block.
    “If you pull that thing on me, you better kill me with the first shot,” Peter said.
    The man kept his hand inside his coat but didn’t draw anything. He turned and now began walking fast, hurrying away.
    “And don’t come back,” Peter called after him. He looked over his shoulder, saw Willie coming, and held up a hand for him to stop. He waited until the watcher had turned the corner before he waved Willie on. They hustled Carrie into the house.
     
     
     
    STONE MET THEM at the door. “Any problems?”
    “Just one,” Peter said. “I sent him on his way.”
    “How’d you do that?” Stone asked.
    Willie showed him the hat pin.
    Stone laughed. “I haven’t seen one of those things since I was a kid.”
    “You’d be surprised how useful it can be,” Peter said. He turned to Carrie. “Are you staying the night?”
    “Yep,” she replied.
    “Then we’ll leave you in Stone’s capable hands.”
    The Leahys departed.

27
    STONE WALKED CARRIE DOWN to the kitchen, put her duffel on the dumbwaiter, and sent it upstairs. Then he poured them both a Knob Creek, and they sat down on the large kitchen sofa.
    Carrie rested her hand lightly on Stone’s crotch. “You know what I like about you?”
    “I think I’m getting an idea,” Stone said.
    “Exactly. And it’s always ready to go.” She began kneading.
    “How could it not be, under the circumstances?”
    “Until I met you it had been a long time since I had gotten anywhere near as much sex as I wanted.”
    “I’m glad to be of service,” Stone said.
    She unzipped his fly and put her hand inside. “Men don’t really understand how much sex women need,” she said.
    “I’m beginning to get the picture,” Stone said.
    She pulled him down on the sofa, took down his trousers, shucked off her slacks, and straddled him, taking him inside her. “How’s that?”
    “ Mmmmm ,” Stone replied.
    “Oh, I’m going to come,” she said.
    “Don’t wait for me.”
    She didn’t.
    “You’re so easy,” Stone said. “Again.”
    “Here I come.” And she did. “How about you?”
    “I’ll save myself for later,” he said.
    She lay down beside him on the sofa and put her head on his shoulder. “I know I can be a pain in the ass,” she said, “but I really appreciate the way you’ve been protecting me.”
    “You’re paying for it,” Stone reminded her.
    “Yes, but I never would have arranged it for myself. You’ve thought of everything.”
    “I’ve tried to.”
    She sat up, pulled her sweater over her head, and undid her bra, freeing her breasts. “I’m dining naked tonight,” she said, then started on his clothes.
    “I hope you don’t mind if I wear an apron while I’m cooking,” Stone said. “Gotta watch out for those spatters.”
    “You do that, sweetie. I’ll still get to look at your ass, which is very nice, by the way.”
    “Same to you, kiddo.”
    “Did you ever take dance?” she asked him.
    “Ballroom, when I was twelve—my mother insisted.”
    “You’ve got a dancer’s ass,” she said. “Muscular and tight.”
    “Maybe I should start wearing leotards,” he suggested.
    She laughed.
     
     
     
    THEY DINED, NAKED, on veal chops and risotto.
    “This is wonderful,” she said, tasting the risotto. “What do you put in it?”
    “You watched me make it.”
    “I was watching your ass,” she said.
    “Combine some butter and olive oil in a pan; add twelve ounces of Arborio rice, some salt, and the zest of a lemon; and sauté until the rice turns golden. Start adding small cupfuls of hot chicken stock, stirring until each addition is absorbed before adding the next, and continue until a whole carton has been absorbed. Then stir in the zest of another lemon, a couple of fistfuls of Parmigiano-Reggiano, and half a carton of crème fraîche, and serve. Takes a little less than half an hour.”
    “That’s so simple.”
    “Why do you think I make it?”
    She attacked