Shooting in the Dark

it had just started, or had it been going on for a few days without him noticing? ‘Concerning women,’ he said. ‘It was different when I was younger. But now I have to approach them on the strength of my beautiful nature and my wealth and fame rather than count on dazzling the eye.’
    ‘You seem quite proficient at that. And I’m sure you could dazzle a girl’s eye as well, if she had one.’
    ‘It’s low animal cunning,’ he told her. ‘Usually gets me where I want to be.’
    She was quiet for a couple of beats, long enough to make him wonder if he’d gone wrong. ‘There’s been a lot of women, hasn’t there?’
    ‘I’ve been round the block at least twice.’
    He looked around the room for a seduction-sized couch. But it was his room and the furniture hadn’t been properly thought through. He took a step towards her and she stepped back into the corner, voluntarily trapped between the door and a huge oak cabinet that had been in the house longer than Sam.
    He came close enough to hear and feel her breath on his face. She reached up and placed her hands on his chest. He lifted her face and brushed her lips with his own and felt her arms go around his back. She had her eyes closed, which was something to think about some other time.
    The feel of her body moving under his touch was an invitation to a sweet and tumultuous chaos that sent his mind swimming. He bore down on her mouth with a gentle force that she returned with short, sharp, seemingly uncontrolled movements. She took his lower lip between her teeth and pulled it down and out, releasing it only a moment before pleasure turned to pain.
    He lifted his head to give her space to breathe, to allow her to reconsider, but she reached for him greedily. She growled.
    A moment later the telephone rang. Sam and Angeles were by now committed to follow their emotions to the inevitable end and neither of them intended to answer the call. After four rings the answer-machine kicked in and Janet’s voice came down the line.
    ‘Sam,’ she said. ‘Sam, if you’re there, pick up the phone. The police are here. Ralph’s been killed. I need some help with Geordie.’
    Sam took a step back and left Angeles on the wall. ‘Sorry,’ he said. He picked up the handset. ‘Janet, you still there?’ He paused. ‘Save it,’ he said. ‘Gimme ten minutes. I’m leaving now.’
    Angeles had let her shoulders slump but her head was high, pressed against the wall, her eyes closed, her arms by her sides.
    ‘I’ll be back later,’ he said.
    She straightened. ‘No, wait, I’ll come too. Janet’ll need someone.’
    Sam looked at her. She was a champ.
     
    Angeles opened the side window and let a stream of icy air into the car. She felt it carve a shallow bowl out of her waxen features. Sam drove fast, grim and tight beside her; she had to brace her body each time he took a corner. The high-pitched whine of protest from the tyres was barely audible, treading only on the fringes of the human ear’s capability.
    When they arrived Sam described the scene to her in clipped sentences, like a parody of one of the guides who showed tourists round the town. ‘Police car outside, badly parked. Young copper standing by. Janet at the window, coming to the door now.’
    Angeles had her hand on his shoulder. She’d never been here before and all of her senses were on alert. She’d set up a grid inside her head and was busy placing herself inside it, noting the objects, the barriers and the pathways around her. She’d felt the heat from the bonnet of the police car as they passed it; and she’d been expecting some kind of gate or an outer approach to the house, but there didn’t seem to be one. A house door opened a couple of metres in front of them and she heard Janet’s voice.
    ‘Sam, thanks for coming.’
    Sam’s shoulder raised as he embraced her, and Angeles felt Janet’s hand squeeze her own at the same time.
    ‘How is he?’ Sam asked.
    ‘Not too good. He’s just staring at the wall.’
    Sam moved away and Angeles felt Janet lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. There was the scent of the mother about her; that soft fleshiness to her lips and cheeks, the heavy pull of her breasts. It seemed to Angeles that Janet’s entire being was an enticement. In close proximity she was suddenly reminded of the awesome power of sexuality. That’s twice in one day, she thought. Which is pushing up the average for a girl who spends most of her time in bed with an