Living Dead in Dallas

Eric’s body, taking in the panorama.
    “Hey, Sookie, who’s your friend?” Jan Fowler, a multiple divorcée in her thirties, was wearing what looked like a lace slip. Jan’s hair was streaked and professionally tousled, and her makeup would have seemed in place on stage, though for a cabin by Mimosa Lake the effect was a bit much. But as hostess, I guess she felt she could wear what she wanted to her own orgy. I slid out of my sweater and endured the embarrassment of receiving the same scrutiny Eric had been given.
    “This is Eric,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing a friend?”
    “Oh, the more the merrier,” she said with undoubted sincerity. Her eyes never rose to Eric’s face. “Eric, what can I get you to drink?”
    “Blood?” Eric asked hopefully.
    “Yeah, I think I’ve got some O here,” she said, unable to tear her gaze away from the Lycra. “Sometimes we . . . pretend.” She raised her eyebrows significantly, and kind of leered at Eric.
    “No need to pretend anymore,” he said, giving her back look for look. On his way to join her at the refrigerator, he managed to stroke Eggs’s shoulder, and Eggs’s face lit up.
    Oh. Well, I’d known I’d learn some things. Tara, beside him, was sulking, her dark brows drawn down over dark eyes. Tara was wearing a bra and panties of shrieking red, and she looked pretty good. Her toenails and fingernails were painted so they matched, and so did her lipstick. She’d come prepared. I met her eyes, and she looked away. It didn’t take a mind reader to recognize shame.
    Mike Spencer and Cleo Hardaway were on a dilapidated couch against the left-hand wall. The whole cottage, basically one large room with a sink and stove against the right-hand wall and a walled-in bathroom in the far corner, was furnished in cast-offs, because in Bon Temps that was what you did with your old furniture. However, most lake cabins would not have featured such a thick soft rug and such a lot of pillows tossed around at random, and there would not have been such thick shades drawn at all the windows. Plus, the knickknacks strewn around on that soft rug were simply nasty. I didn’t even know what some of them were.
    But I pasted a cheerful smile on my face, and hugged Cleo Hardaway, as I usually did when I saw her. Granted, she had always been wearing more clothes when she ran the high school cafeteria. But panties were more than Mike was wearing, which was not a stitch.
    Well, I’d known it would be bad, but I guess you just can’t prepare yourself for some sights. Cleo’s huge milk-chocolate brown boobs were glistening with some kind of oil, and Mike’s private parts were equally shiny. I didn’t even want to think about that.
    Mike tried to grab my hand, probably to assist withthe oil, but I slithered away and edged over to Eggs and Tara.
    “I sure never thought you’d come,” Tara said. She was smiling, too, but not real happily. In fact, she looked pretty damn miserable. Maybe the fact that Tom Hardaway was kneeling in front of her smooching up the inside of her leg had something to do with that. Maybe it was Eggs’s obvious interest in Eric. I tried to meet Tara’s eyes, but I felt sick.
    I’d only been here five minutes, but I was willing to bet this was the longest five minutes of my life.
    “Do you do this real often?” I asked Tara, absurdly. Eggs, his eyes on Eric’s bottom while Eric stood talking at the refrigerator with Jan, began fumbling with the button on my shorts. Eggs had been drinking again. I could smell it. His eyes were glassy and his jaw was slack. “Your friend is really big,” he said, as if his mouth were watering, and maybe it was.
    “Lots bigger than Lafayette,” I whispered, and his gaze jerked up to meet mine. “I figured he’d be welcome.”
    “Oh, yes,” Eggs said, deciding not to confront my statement. “Yes, Eric’s . . . very large. It’s good to have some diversity.”
    “This is as rainbow as Bon Temps gets,” I said, trying hard not to sound perky. I endured Eggs’s continued struggle with the button. This had been a big mistake. Eggs was just thinking about Eric’s butt. And other things about Eric.
    Speaking of the devil, he snugged up behind me and ran his arms around me, pulling me to him and removing me from Eggs’s clumsy fingers. I leaned back into Eric, really glad he was there. I realized that was because I expected Eric to misbehave. But seeing people you’d known all your