"The Captive Bride" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jensen Peter)

Chapter Ten

Jack Thompson stood at the window to his office on the twentieth floor of a large corporation building above Fifth Avenue in New York and looked down over the tops of apartment houses at the blue smog misting the city.

This was the sixth letter he'd written to Becky, who was now living in Los Angeles, and he hoped somehow she would answer it. He turned from the window and reached down to his desk for the unsealed envelope, pushing a stack of paperwork aside. He had asked Becky for her forgiveness numerous times over the past few months, but all he had received from her in return was silence. This was understandable, he supposed, considering how he'd treated her that horrible night at Fritz Schneider's country estate. She'd gone through torments most sane women couldn't endure, while for most of the night he had watched in almost uncaring disgust at the brutal violations of her young body.

He recalled the brief scuffle between Olaf Jorgensen and Schneider as the guests were leaving the house… if it hadn't been for the hotel clerk, Jack might have obeyed Schneider and smuggled the heroin to the states. But now, the former Nazi was dead; Olaf and Christina had fled the estate with Hans, the gardener, after the Swedish man had shot Schneider. Jack figured there must have been some kind of revenge motive involved, but he'd been too concerned with freeing his wife, grabbing the camera and escaping in the midst of the confusion, to think about just why Olaf had come up behind Schneider just as the German was addressing the crowd for the final time… Still, Thompson couldn't forget the horrified expression on the former Nazi's face as he'd turned around and seen Olaf standing with a revolver held up to his head. Knowing how efficient these crime syndicate people were in settling their internal disputes, Jack doubted that Olaf, Hans and Christina had gotten very far. But there were still some things that puzzled him. Had Christina been in on the plot to assassinate Schneider the whole time? If so… why did the voluptuous brunette go along so enthusiastically with Schneider's scheme that evening? There were some things, he thought, that he would never know… and, in a way, he was glad he knew as little as he did.

Now, he sat down and stretched across the desk, his forehead cupped pensively in the palms of his hands.

He recalled how Becky had packed her bags after they had arrived at the hotel in Palma the next morning… and remembered how she'd immediately left for the airport and the plane which had taken her back to the states. His young beautiful bride had turned on him… perhaps forever. Now, he sealed the envelope and placed it into his chest pocket, then turned to the window and gazed down at office workers on their lunch hour moving like toy soldiers on the street twenty stories below.

Becky Thompson rushed out of the surf, feeling a sense of exhilaration at the warm sun striking her darkly tanned young body after the refreshing dip. God! Malibu was beautiful! She had loved the sun and sand and the long languorous days with nothing to do but wait till evening when her date for the night picked her up and they went dancing or attended beach parties just a few yards from the crashing surf.

Jim, her man for the afternoon, was lying under their yellow umbrella, balancing a bottle of beer on his stomach. She liked Jim – but he was getting a little too serious, she thought as she caught the towel he threw teasingly up at the brassiere of her revealing bathing suit. She rubbed the colorful beach towel over her sun-bronzed thighs and dried her smoothly tanned stomach, glorying in the desirous glances from the group of male surfers who stood drinking at the cabana bar nearby.

She wanted to make these moments last, for she was going back to Jack, though her young husband still didn't know it. She supposed she'd made him squirm back in New York long enough, though, after what had happened in Mallorca, she was certain she had every right in the world to insist on a complete separation. But she did love him – even a month or so of complete freedom couldn't persuade her otherwise.

Now she settled back on the blanket next to Jim, feeling his hands begin to massage her back and apply cooling suntan oil to her skin. She pretended for a moment that those were Jack's hands caressing her sensitive flesh… that it would be Jack's long hard cock that would be fucking into her tight little pussy a few hours from now.

The curvaceous young blonde turned and let Jim kiss her, feeling his tongue splurge wetly into her mouth. It was nice, she thought… but it wasn't it… not the way her young husband would kiss her, not the way it would feel a few days from now when she decided the time had come to return home to the man she loved.